


An exception to the Rules

by Narcosynthesis



Series: Morrigan and Leliana [1]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Drama, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-07
Updated: 2012-11-07
Packaged: 2017-11-18 04:45:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narcosynthesis/pseuds/Narcosynthesis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is a strange and complicated thing when two very, VERY different persons suddenly and under dire circumstances realize that they share a deep trauma. It is even more complicated when one of those two is Morrigan. Roughly four years after the Blight and warden Elissa's sacrifice, Morrigan finds an all too familiar bard in peril. And things get - indeed - very complicated...</p><p>[Leliana/Morrigan-Romance, set after DA:O and Awakening, thus AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Enter: the witch

**Author's Note:**

> My first FanFic ever (not the first story I ever wrote, of course), so I'm still not completely sure whether it is any good. But I got some nice reviews and feedback when I posted at FFnet, where I posted it earlier (since I hadn't an account here yet when I wrote it some months ago), so I thought that it might not be a complete waste of time and post it here as well. Your feedback in any form would be very much appreciated!
> 
> The whole thing contains implications of sex and violence – well, and some actual violence, too (You know: Morrigan being in it and all…). None-explicit stuff, though. Still, there is the matter of the rather unsettling parts going along with Leliana's background story (you know what I mean), which will play a role in this one indirectly. Again: nothing explicit, but be sure to check your age before reading it anyway.  
> Oh, and it IS a love-story (and by that I mean actual romance, not a sex-story) of Morrigan and Leliana, so if you don't like this idea at all, do yourself a huge favor and don't read this one – or at least don't say that I didn't warn you…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A strange meeting takes place in the Korcari Wilds...

###  Chapter 1 - Enter: the Witch 

 

The sweat constantly dripping in her eyes wasn't the most annoying part of this. True, she wished she would be able to wipe it away every now and then, but that wasn't the problem. It wasn't even the way her back was aching and how she could feel her every muscle at work. Though, truth be told, a Witch of the Wilds shouldn't be carrying some heavy load around for hours – even less a person.

No, the most unnerving thing about the whole situation was that everytime when Morrigan looked down into that face of the woman she was carrying, she was unable to find any rational explanation for what she was doing here.

_Doesn't make sense. None at all._

A look at the girl's wound didn't show much blood dripping out. Well, but it wasn't the wound that was killing her now, was it?

Still: No reason for all of this. Where was the rationality? Why not just let her die here and now?

Morrigan gave a sigh.  _If rationality fails, just follow your instinct for the time being. It usual takes you home._ She straightened up and steadied her pace. Better not think about it too much and just go on.  _Before she stops breathing again._

Because  _that_  – as well – was really annoying.

* * *

The Korcari Wilds seemed to stretch out endlessly, even from this high perspective. No end in sight whatsoever. In the afternoon light they didn't even look that frightening to Tarejian. Not that he had any intentions of going in, though. Not if it could be avoided. Dreamily, his eyes wandered over the vast forest, the little road leading to the keep, the forest again…and then he started back from the beginning. Just like he had done countless times before during the past few hours. Duty on the watchtower was just as dull as that.

But whom was he kidding? Tarejian liked dull. And at least out here he would avoid getting into some real battle. Getheir's Keep had been isolated even from a Ferelden point of view. The rest of the world didn't seem to care about the men here.

Well, they  _had_  cared when Loghain's men had come to recruit soldiers for King Cailan's army before Ostagar. And they had found enough volunteers here who had just waited for an opportunity to escape from the monotony of Getheir's Keep. Tarejian had not been one of them. He had been too young back then – his luck. None of those brave volunteers ever returned. And the world had once again forgotten about the Keep after the Blight was finally over. That was almost four years ago – and still the numbers of soldiers here hadn't increased significantly. Tarejian could count those who had come here  _after_  the Blight on both hands.

If it had been any of his choice he would never even have considered himself wearing a soldier's uniform. He was not one for battle, but he had an impressive stature that made people think twice before they would cause any trouble in his vicinity. To make matters worse, his father had discovered his talent at sword-fighting very early. And since that was a talent which could earn a few silver in service – well, the decision had been made for him. He sighed.  _Well, at least Elara had made it easier._   _Oh, Elara._  Just the mere thought of her was enough to raise his spirits. They had known each over since their early childhood and to him she had always been the most beautiful girl in town. And it had been clear for both of them that they would marry some day.  _She was so proud of me when she heard that I had been accepted._ Even though it meant they wouldn't see each other for a long time.

According to her letters she was proud of him still. She had no idea that duty at Getheir's Keep wasn't any more exciting than what a shepherd might do each day. He was a  _soldier_! That was what mattered.  _Well, if it brings me back to her in half a year, I guess I could have found a worse profession._ With his pay, he and Elara would start a life somewhere – in a bigger city, as she had decided. Elara always dreamt of moving to Denerim one day. Maybe they would be able to afford that. He could easily find work at the city watch there – being a soldier and all – and they would finally have their own life.  _Just as it was meant to be. I wonder if we will…_

The thought vanished abruptly when he noticed something odd. There was someone on the road. Had he been there all the time while his mind had wandered around? Or had he just appeared? And if yes: from where? Out of the Wilds? Who would…? Again, he had to interrupt the thought as he saw something else: the person out there was holding something – or rather someone. Carrying someone around like that, stumbling towards the keep like… _Like a wounded soldier!_  His eyes widened as his mind caught up. Someone wounded! He was on his feet at once, racing down the stairs of the tower. The lethargy had left his bones in a fracture of seconds. Someone might need his helps. No time to waste.

When he reached the yard, he almost ran over a fellow soldier. "Ho, easy now what's going…?" The soldier stopped in the middle of the sentence, obviously realizing that Tarejian was not listening at all. He raced towards the gate, shouting. "Healer!", he barked at the bewildered guardsmen at the gate. "Wounded on the road!" In the corner of his eyes, he saw one of the guards turning around, running into the keep, the other one followed him.  _No time to waste._  "Healing! We need help!" he heard the voice of the other guard behind him, while he dashed toward the man on the road – when he saw that it was not actually a man. Just seeing a human silhouette from up there, he had naturally assumed it to be a man who was carrying the wounded person, but now, drawing closer, it was clearly a dark-haired woman. For an instant, time seemed to stand still.  _A woman!_  Tarejian was taken aback. That was the least thing he had expected.  _And a strange one at that._  She wore ragged, blood-stained clothes, which – at first glimpse – gave her the impression of one of those poor women living near the Wilds…or even in there, if those some of those old stories could be trusted (the thought of those made Tarejian shudder). On the other hand: her hair was pinned up like that of some noblewomen and her appearance, that way she held her head up high and her body upright, supported that latter impression. And her cleavage was… He shook that thought away. There was no time for something like that. And he could even feel a guilty blush when the image of Elara flickered in his head.  _Really no time for that._

"Everything alright there?" he heard himself shouting as he and the other guard approached. He recognized him to be Feleth, a senior soldier he knew almost nothing about. Except that he liked to keep to himself – and could be rather irritated when someone disturbed him during lunch….

The woman stared at him blankly through strange reptilian-like eyes, then answered in a sarcastic tone: "Alright? Why, of course. What does it look like? We're just going for a stroll here, you fools." Tarejian glimpsed at Feleth. Admittedly, that question  _had_  been rather foolish.

"I – I am sorry…," he hesitated before adding, "…mylady."  _Better save than sorry._ "Don't worry, a healer is on her way. Mistress Wynne will be able to help. May I…" He stopped as the woman gave a humorless laugh. " _Mistress Wynne_? Are you kidding me? What is going on today – some kind of family reunion? Say, will our Beloved King join us for tea?"

Tarejian was perplexed. What was she talking about? Again, he looked sideways for help, but Feleth didn't seem to understand it either. "The – the king, my lady? Why would King Alistair come here?" (And in what manner could that woman possible related to the king?)

"Forget about it." The woman rolled her eyes. "I wonder, though," she said acidly, "With two strong soldiers in front of me, wouldn't one expect that at least  _one_  of you had the decency to ask me, if he should take the girl? Not that I'm complaining. 'Tis not that I had something better to do than carry her around all day…"

' _Her'? 'The girl'?_ Once again, Tarejian was surprised how his mind just ignored major details of this while being focsed on the strange woman. Now that he saw the soft features of the red-haired woman in the arms of the noble(?) woman, there was of course no doubt: it was a girl, alright. And a rather pretty one at that (again, the image of Elara seemed to pop up in his head like a warning sign). From the distance, her boyish haircut had given him another impression. And there was another thing about the wounded woman he just realized. His eyes widened.  _That robe!_  "Is that a – a Chantry Sister?" Feleth, obviously having noted just the very same thing, cried out in disbelief.

The woman seemed indifferent. "Well, who can tell nowadays? Chantry Sister, bard – could even be an Orlesian spy – who knows? Now will someone take her from me or are you just here for the mindless chatter?"

Tarejian moved his arms to take the girl. "Maker protect her", Feleth murmured. The eyes of the dark-haired woman flickered at that. "Oh yes. Protect. 'Tis exactly what 'He' tends to do. Quite good at keeping this one out of trouble, 'He' is!", she sneered. Nevertheless she handed the girl over, when Tarejian saw something shiny falling down. His eyes followed the object, but the woman had already bend down and taken what looked like a silvery amulet or necklace.  _Where did that come from? Had it been in the Chantry girl's hands?_ Quickly, the other woman grabbed the amulet. "I am taking that", she said resolutely.

"Of course you do. No good deed without a reward, right, Morrigan?" Tarejian spun around, but recognized that voice even before the woman came into his sight. Mistress Wynne. _Thank the Maker!_

"Wynne," The dark-haired woman gave a cool smile toward the Keep's mage. "Still alive, I see? Good for you." Her tone certainly didn't imply that, but Mistress Wynne ignored it and took a look at the Sister in Tarejian's arms. From one moment to the other, the girl suddenly felt way heavier than before.

"Her." Wynne stated in a matter-of-fact way, which was even more confusing to Tarejian. "What happened?"

The woman named Morrigan waved her hand beside dismissively. "Well, I might enlighten you with the whole story if you wish. But right now, the only thing you need to know: Antivan poison. She got it from a dagger about one or two hours ago. Hit her in the left shoulder." – "Antivan poison?" Mistress Wynne raised an eyebrow suspiciously while she eyed up Morrigan. The woman crossed her arms before her chest defiantly. "Don't look at me like that. 'Twas not my doing." – "Of course not. You just happened to be there."

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "Why, yes,  _Mistress_  Wynne. You have me there. Of course 'twas I who poisoned the girl, then carried her around for hours and brought her right here, just to…to…to do what exactly? There might just be a tiny mosaic piece in that logic, that I just cannot seem to find." Wynne didn't even look at her, alls concentrated on the wound. "We'll talk about that later. Guards," she looked up at Tarejian, "Please bring the girl inside the keep. And could you bring Lady Morrigan to a guest room in the tower. I'm sure the commander will not decline hospitality in this case."

"You are not seriously trying to arrest me, old woman, are you?" The mysterious woman asked icily.

"Of course not". Again Mistress Wynne didn't even bother to look up. "You said you wanted to tell me all about it and I intend to listen when I've done everything for her. Besides: I am sure that you might need some rest yourself."

Morrigan looked at her, then sighed. "Well, I do suppose you might be right at  _that_ , at least." When they moved on to the keep, Tarejian noticed for the first time that she was sweating and, despite trying to keep straight, she looked exhausted. Carrying someone all the way like that – it must have been very hard.  _That was a very brave thing to do._  He could not help admiring it. It was what heroes would do. And though that woman behaved nothing like a hero of one of the old stories, she might actually have saved that girl's life. But why was she acting so hostile about it? And why did Mistress Wynne – usually a friendly and benign person – seem to dislike that woman? True, she seemed rather odd to him, too. But obviously, they knew each other. Other than that… Tarejian had no idea. It didn't matter right now. They had to get the girl into the keep. But as they hurried inside, he couldn't stop wondering.  _Mysterious strangers out of the Wilds. A Chantry Sister in danger. Antivan poison._ That was far too much trouble for Tarejian's liking.  _Certainly not a dull afternoon. Not at all._

* * *

Morrigan didn't think that she would ever be able to move again. Her body ached, her muscles seemed to burn and her joints…well, at least now she knew they were there. All of them.  _Carrying the bloody girl all that way – what was I thinking? Was I thinking at all?_

She had slumped on the soft bed in the keep's tower-room just second after that nervous guard had closed the heavy wooden door after him – and she hadn't moved since. The girl wasn't actually heavy, but that had made no difference. Morrigan wasn't used to this kind of exercise. It hadn't really helped that the bard's breath was so weak that she had to stop every once in a while to check if she was breathing at all. She had given everything in her repertoire of Healing: magic, whatever more or less useful herbs she could find on the way – but she wasn't at all familiar with this kind of poison. Admitting that her own abilities would not suffice in this case had slightly hurt her pride, but she had been concentrated enough to remember the keep. Soldiers tended to have some sort of healer around, usually some circle mage. That had been the girl's only real chance.

 _Still: I could have just let her lie there, couldn't I?_ It still didn't figure. There had been absolutely no reason to go through the trouble of saving her. The bard meant nothing to her – even less now that there was no Blight and no mutual task in which the girl could have proven herself useful. So: Why did she even bother? People got into trouble and had to face the consequences all the time. Sometimes those consequences were fatal. And Morrigan never cared. Why now? Some sentimental nostalgia of the old days? Or had she just been too surprised to see the girl again – here! – to think straight?

Well, however foolish the reason, the reward was adequate: muscle ache. How long had she lain here, just staring at the stone ceiling? Minutes? Hours? It felt all the same.

And it hadn't changed when the door opened with a creak – after a careful knock. Wynne surely never forgot her manners. Her face was expressionless, as she entered the room. Well, not exactly expressionless: there was always that humble calmness that she wore like a mask.

Morrigan sat up straight in the bed – silently cursing that movement in that very same instant. Without breaking the silence she watched the old mage as she took a stool and sat down before her.  _Let her start this._

"So," Wynne stated. "I believe you wanted to tell me the story behind all this?"  _Damn her. If I were any other person she would have told me about the girl's condition first. But not with me. She wants me to ask. See if I actually care._   _Well,_   _I won't give her that._

"That I did say. And you shall hear it." Morrigan replied, not taking the bait. "But I fear you might be disappointed, Wynne: I did not, in fact, poison the girl."

"You keep saying that."

"'Why, because 'tis true."

"Then who did?"

"Marjolaine."

It was only the faintest movement of her jaws, but Morrigan saw it.  _You didn't expect that one, old woman._ Morrigan leaned back with relish. "Yes, that is right, Wynne. That would be the very woman you and the Cousland girl let escape a few years ago…after, you know,  _her last attempt to kill the girl._ " Even if Wynne didn't give away any sign of guilt, the witch knew it was there. With a cold smile she added "…and look what a great decision that turned out to be."

"It was not my place to decide Marjolaine's fate. Elissa did."

"Oh, and I am sure that  _you_  strongly objected." Morrigan sneered.

"Leliana did not object either."

"Well, that would be because she is – and always will be – an utter fool."

"So you are saying that it is basically my fault that we didn't kill Marjolaine that day?"

"An interesting angle, isn't it?"

"Since when do you even care about Leliana's life, Morrigan?"

"I'm sorry? This pointless conversation might have somewhat affected my memory, but I can't really seem to recall saying such a thing."

"You saved her."

Morrigan didn't have a reply ready for that.  _I did, didn't I? But why? What's so different now?_  "Well, I also seem to remember you came here for a story," she evaded.

Wynne nodded. "I am glad that we can agree on that at the very least."

The witch took a breath. Not too deep of course.  _We wouldn't want to let the old woman know that she caught us off-guard there now, would we?_  Well, at least that would keep her away from wondering. She remembered…


	2. A stroll in the Wilds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter to "An exception to the Rules": Morrigan recalls the events, which led to her appearence at the keep.

### 

Chapter 2 - A stroll in the Wilds 

Six. Morrigan looked around, but didn't see any more. Six dead bodies. Two horses. Well, that did qualify as an ambush, didn't it? She counted to ten and took a deep breath. She had waited long enough in the bushes to be sure that there was no immediate danger. Time enough to investigate what had happened here.  _And I just wanted to take a peaceful walk…_

She stepped out of her hideout and carefully moved closer to the scenery. It had been a nice day for a stroll. The weather was fine, the forest quiet – except the animals, of course, but that was the sound she was used to, the one she grew up with. She wouldn't want it any other way. And she bothered even less in her spider form.

But that had changed now, hadn't it? It had sounded rather faint and muffled in her other shape, but the disruption of the background sound had been clear to her human senses. Shouts. Screams. Weapons clashing. It hadn't taken long to locate where it came from, but when she arrived here at the narrow road somewhere through the lightest part of the forest, she had seen the sight of the ambush. Back being herself again, she had taken it all in, waited for a while – patiently, of course – but this here seemed to be over.

_At least it is for them_. The centre of the fight must have been there, where four bodies lay close to each other. The other two – well, they obviously didn't get to the heart of the action as the arrows showed. One of them had been hit right in the eye.  _Either a very lucky shot or a_ very _good archer._

The two bodies closest to the horses seemed to belong together, at least Morrigan thought so. One with a short bow, the other with a sword. Those could be the ones who had been ambushed, she decided – fighting side by side against the attackers. The swordsman seemed to have gotten one of the attackers, the archer another. Which was strange.  _He can't possibly have shot three men down until they finally got close to him. Not in a surprise ambush._  Which left only one other explanation. _These aren't all of those who had been attacked._

Hastily she looked at the bodies themselves. The attackers looked like simple every-day men. No soldiers, more likely some bandits. But then: the victims didn't look much different. And nobody seemed to have taken anything. Then why the attack?  _Unless they were after something else…or someone._  Indeed she could see some fresh tracks leading right  _into_ the forest – someone was still being hunted…

"Well, told you 'twas a good idea to wait, didn't I?" Morrigan winced at the voice behind her and spun around, her hand already raised, the energy flowing through her.  _Steady, Morrigan. Concentrate!_

"Said that she would come back, didn't I?" The hoarse voice belonged to a plump man, stepping out the bushes. He wasn't alone, Morrigan realized. Two others were there only a step behind him, catching up.

"But that ain't the one, we're looking for!" one of them claimed, before he caught a blow right into the stomach. "So what? Do I look like I care?" the fat man shouted at him, his fist ready to strike again. He turned back at Morrigan, grinning. "Then this one is for us only."

Morrigan put on a cold smile.  _Oh, this should be fun._  With one quick motion she swung the staff around… _releasing_ …. The shock of sudden insight (much too late) was there on the face of the man to the left: "Whoa, she's a ma—"

He didn't come any farther as the icy wave hit the group, there movements slowing down, coming to a stop.  _Not much time now. Quick, woman!_  But her reflexes worked even faster than her mind, it seemed: already, Morrigan was leaping at the group, the flow painlessly burning in her arm, as she felt the spirit-poison running through. One leap, two, three – and there she was right in front of the fat man in the middle pressing her hand against his temple.  _Release._  It felt like a cramp fading away as the spell found its way into the man's body. Helplessly he stared at her, his eyes open wide.  _You feel it, don't you? The corrosion. Feasting. Growing._ She stumbled a few steps back. As the power channelled once again, she felt it tearing at her – power, raw power. She barely kept her hold, running a few more steps. Just three. Two. One.

"—mage." she heard behind her.  _Damn, they broke out early._  She spun around, her hand shaking from the force she was just trying to control, to focus – one last time. Time seemed to stand still as she stared at the three men, the plump one looking as if he was going to be sick. "You all right, man?" his companion asked, but he didn't seem to get a word out. He just waved in Morrigan's direction.  _Just one more second._  The massive energy of pure, elemental stone poured through her arm. This was painful – very painful.  _It's this one or nothing at all._  But the men had already straightened up and charged…too late. The fist of stone manifested and shot ahead, aiming for the fat man. The impact. That subtle moment only noticeable for one trained in the arcane arts when damage of the stone and the poison inside him met. The explosion of flesh.  _A sweet symphony._

Morrigan could hardly stand, but neither could the two men as the thrust hauled them through the air. It seemed endless, the moment of the two men flying before they finally hit the ground. Hard. One of them lay there without any motion, the other whimpered helplessly, holding his face – or what was left of it.

The witch allowed herself to slump down.  _That was – very much. Very quick._  She felt exhausted, but that would fade away. It had to.  _As fast as possible_. As she raised her head, her eyes fell on the footsteps again. Someone was still out there, running for his life. And they had a head-start. She couldn't possibly outrun them now.  _At least not in this shape._

She grimaced. Well, it was the only way, wasn't it? Morrigan didn't like the wolf-form very much. It could be rather – intense. Harder to control than the spider she was used to. Still: what else could she do? She gave herself one minute. Resting. Regaining focus. The screams of the dying man were faint background noises in her ears. None of her concern; he had brought this upon himself the moment he decided to step outside the bushes with the fat man. She found the flow again, carefully trying to concentrate.  _It was supposed to be peaceful walk._

* * *

Her legs were gaining ground as fast as they possibly could – not quite fast enough. Not for the first time, Leliana regretted her poor choice of fashion. The Chantry robes. Of all disguises, she had chosen that one. Yes, the robe had been cut out rather widely – just in case she had to run (she had learnt that running could be rather useful occasionally). Nonetheless, in this terrain, it kept getting stuck on the bushes and thorns of the Korcari forest.

Well, the idea hadn't been half bad: dressed as a Chantry Sister, no one would seriously question her whereabouts – least of all some bandits on the road. And bandits were the only real problem she had expected here. Most of the attackers should have been cowed by her clothes. A Sister and two armed adventurers at her side – no normal bandit would have thought of any loot worth the trouble in this constellation. The few coins one might have expected to find on them were hardly something to risk your life for by testing if those armed lads knew how to use their weapons. But she hadn't expected a coordinated ambush like that. Not an attack led by  _her_.

_Marjolaine._  Merely recalling that moment when she had first seen that beautiful, familiar face appearing behind those men still send a shiver down her spine and seemed to make her run even faster. She had already shot down one of the attackers and was aiming for the next when she had recognized her standing there, raising her hand.  _Dagger!_  Out of a reflex she had jumped left – probably saving her life. Marjolaine had always been good throwing knives and daggers. Leliana's leap had made her miss this one time. And she hadn't wanted to challenge her luck by trying to repeat it.

It had all gone too quick from that moment on. When Leliana had been back at her feet, she had started to run for the forest instinctively. If Marjolaine was behind this, it was her that she wanted, not her companions. She had hoped that darting away would send most of the attackers after her, luring them away from Syes and Doryl. That's all that she could have done to improve their chances of getting out alive. She hoped that it had been enough.

After that, there had been only running.

Dodging a branch at her right, she glimpsed behind her. She could still see Marjolaine – gaining ground. Of course, she was much faster than Leliana in her robe. It was only a matter of time. A swift motion right next to her startled her. Another dagger?  _Maker, protect me! Run, girl. She won't miss for a third time._

Silently, she cursed herself. Why hadn't they just ended it back in Denerim? Oh, she had wanted it to end. Maybe she would have even killed Marjolaine herself. But Elissa had been there, too. The Warden had always been so kind-hearted – just killing the woman had never been an option for her. Leliana had agreed, partly to impress the Warden, partly because Elissa's shining example of humaneness had reminded her of what she wanted to be herself.  _Better than before_. Before  _it_  had happened. The Great Betrayal… and its consequences. _The Darkness in me. The one which can never be purged._ And of course better than Marjolaine. Not a murderer.

She had hoped that this had finally shown Marjolaine that she was not the girl she had been before, that the past lay behind her – and most of all: that she wasn't interested in her anymore, one way or another. Maybe her former mentor might realize that Leliana certainly was no threat anymore. Maybe that might make her stop chasing Leliana, sparing herself the trouble.

_Fool! You should have known better._  She almost stumbled as she made one wrong movement.  _Of course, Marjolaine wouldn't let it go and you knew that. She had waited for the right moment to strike, and you have given her that. 'Never let down your guard. Always expect a trap'._  Those were lessons Marjolaine herself had taught her. And she had carelessly neglected them.  _Hope has gotten the better of me. Should have followed my instincts instead._ Instead she had given Marjolaine the chance to do what she was best at: waiting, scheming, planning. And striking at the right moment.

Her eyes scanned the surrounding situation. There had to be some way to get rid of her. Disappear somewhere in the undergrowth. She sure couldn't outrun Marjolaine. Once again she risked a look over her shoulder, only to realize that her huntress had gotten closer, ever closer. She could even see the self-satisfied grin on her face now. So, Leliana turned around again – that was the only direction that mattered. No use hoping that Marjolaine would just magically disappear. Once again she almost stumbled over her own feet, cursing the robe again…

It was just then when she realized that something was terribly wrong.

The trees ahead were…not right. They were as far away as a few seconds ago.  _The trees. Marjolaine. My stumbling. I am too slow._  Another false step. Again, she almost fell. All her motions – far too slow, clumsy, wrong. What was going on?

Again she turned around, only to be scared to death. Marjolaine was just a few steps away, her wicked smile growing broader. "Leliana. My sweet Leliana. Finally you're coming to a rest."

In one last desperate attempt, Leliana tried to run. It was like moving in a dream, her legs not doing much more than a walk. In the corner of her eye, she saw something she had missed when she had looked behind her: the cloth on her shoulder – wasn't there anymore. Instead she stared at a cut on her shoulder. The dagger. _Of course she didn't miss. What were you thinking? She never misses._

It was then that she actually fell.

As she tried to get up – it was an attempt doomed to fail – she could hear Marjolaine's steps beside her. She wasn't even running anymore. Just walking.  _I have to move on…_

"Crawling? Seriously? Where's your dignity?" When Leliana looked up and her eyes met Marjolaine's cold stare, she instantly knew that all was lost.  _Still. Have to try. Can't let her win._

Marjolaine hunkered down a few steps before her, looking fascinated at her clumsy movements. "Though," she moved a finger to her lips. "Though I must admit that I always liked you on your knees. Good memories, you know. And I'm glad that this is at least one feature you didn't change in that little new life of yours, non? I mean, you do pray a lot nowadays, don't you?" Her words were taunting, her grin triumphant.

"What did you do to me, Marjolaine?" Leliana managed.

Marjolaine made an almost-innocent look. She was good at those, too. "Me? I haven't done anything, my dear. You brought this all upon yourself." But the smile returned only seconds later. "But if you are wondering about your condition, I have two words for you." Two words that echoed back in her mind, killing the last glimmer of hope.

"Antivan poison."

* * *

Morrigan took a deep breath and leaned against the tree, the stench of blood in her nose. The  _actual_  blood was in her face, as she observed. She tried to wipe it away. Oh, it had smelled so sweet just a few minutes ago. That was another problem with the wolf-form: Killing while being in that shape made it even more…demanding. Not that Morrigan had really cared about the man sneaking around. She was sure, that he had been just another of those attackers, looking for his prey.  _Well, wasn't that a surprise – becoming the prey yourself?_  But the wild blood lust, the intensity of the wolf…it had taken a lot of effort to break out. Becoming herself again. Of course she was always herself, even in other forms. But shapeshifting…it did always change something about her perception. Instincts tended to be much more powerful when she was in another form.

Again she took a deep breath. She was very close now. There were noises just ahead. Carefully she sneaked closer, patiently (of course), not making any noise. She knew how to move here. This was here terrain, her world.  _My home._  One step. Another. Taking cover again.  _A women's voice…_

"…didn't change in that little new life of yours, non? I mean, you do pray a lot nowadays, don't you?" An Orlesian accent. _Far from home, woman._

"What did you do to me, Marjolaine?"

Morrigan gasped. That voice.  _Impossible!_ She peered behind the branches right in front of her – and her heart missed a beat.  _It_ is  _her! What is she doing here?_ Her mind raced, processing what she had just heard and seen. The voice. The accent. The hair. There was no doubt that the woman crawling around was Leliana. Another thought popped up. _Marjolaine. She said 'Marjolaine'._  Morrigan didn't know much of her. Only that she must have been an old friend of the bard…before she had decided to kill the girl. In her experience, 'old friends' sometimes did things like that…

Years ago, Morrigan had been there when assassins had tried to ambush the group, trying to kill Leliana in Marjolaine's name. It hadn't worked out. Instead they had been able to trace back the scheme to Denerim, finding out where she was hiding. Leliana and the Cousland girl had faced her there. Wynne had been there, too. And Alistair…or the Qunari? She wasn't entirely sure.  _Either way, they messed up. Let her go. Made her swear to be good or something._ Knowing the girl, there were probably some clever Chantry sayings involved as well. _'And, lo! Be nice to your enemies of old for they shall be friends of new. And there shall be cuddling and dancing and everything shall be just fine as long as ye all heed His name'. Fools._

"Me? I haven't done anything, my dear." There was very much pleasure in Marjolaine's voice.  _Why doesn't the bard do something? She just crawls around like a dog._ "You brought this all upon yourself." Another thought crossed Morrigan's mind. Maybe the girl was hurt? Maybe that's why she acted so weird. A voice in her head shook her.  _And why do you even care? It's just Leliana. You don't like her, remember? And we're long past the point where she is of any use to you. Just turn around and go._

She didn't. Morrigan stayed and watched – just out of curiosity. Naturally.

"But if you are wondering about your condition, I have two words for you: Antivan poison." Marjolaine waved her arm around annoyingly happy. "And what a lovely poison this one is. The Antivans, they have so much…style, don't you think?" That's when Leliana fell straight to the ground. Just as if her arms had lost grip. Curiously, Morrigan realized that she herself was already focusing again, feeling the flow, ready to unleash…  _What am I doing?_

Marjolaine clapped her hands, acting surprised. It looked ridiculous, Morrigan decided. _Orlesians…_  "Oh, sweet Leliana. Look, what happened! Here, let me lend you a hand, poor thing." Without much effort, Marjolaine grabbed the girl under her shoulders and slowly pulled her to a nearby tree, leaning her against it. There was not the slightest hint of defiance or protest from the girl.  _That's some strong venom indeed._  "What – what is it, Marjolaine?"

The dark-haired woman raised her index finger admonitory. "But, I already told you, dear: It's poison. You do have to listen more carefully, girl." Her voice sounded as if she was talking to a little child.  _She is_ really  _annoying_ , Morrigan noticed once more.  _I guess they must have been a perfect match back in the days._

Marjolaine knelt down before the helpless bard. "The Antivans use this one for a long, safe kill. Not that painful, don't you worry. We wouldn't want to hurt you…much, would we?" She grinned. "But still: It takes its time, paralyzing the victim while still leaving him or her conscious. Do you know why? I'll tell you: The assassin and the victim can have a nice little chat before it ends. Maybe deliver a last message from the person ordering the kill or something like that. That's the beauty of it, dear. It's so much more…personal, don't you think?"

"It's cruel, that's what it is." Leliana replied defiantly…well, more or less defiantly, given her position. Her captor made a sad face. "Oh, Leliana, when did you stop being fun? There were times when you would have enjoyed a thing like that."

Now  _this_  might be interesting. Morrigan had always known there was more to the bard than met the eye, but she hadn't been told much of Leliana's history.

"I would have never liked something like  _that_." Leliana said. "Leaving someone helpless like that. Feeling the end coming for a long, long time. That was never the way. My way was good and quick and – clean."

Marjolaine looked at her, then shook her head as if trying to shake away some thought. "I'm sorry, dear. I didn't listen. I was just looking at your breasts." Leliana gasped, which Marjolaine obviously found hilarious for some reason. "But not in  _that_  way, my dear! I'm still a lady, you know," she said as she moved closer, grabbing something around Leliana's neck. "I was just wondering, what a nice little necklace you're wearing here." – "You leave that alone," Leliana shouted, "It's not yours."  _So much…passion. This is interesting._

"Maybe not," Marjolaine replied amusedly, "But it surely isn't  _yours_  either, since you – my most cherished friend – are just a dead body to be. And corpses don't own anything." Carefully, almost gently, Marjolaine pulled the piece of jewellery over Leliana's head. "I, on the other hand, am very much alive – and I could use the gold this thing might be worth. You know, this whole thing was pretty expensive. The bandits, the poison…"

"But why, Marjolaine?" Leliana said sadly. "I already told you back then that I wasn't interested in you anymore. I am with the Chantry now. I don't care about the past or you. I'm trying to be – just good."

Marjolaine shook her head. "Ts, ts. Oh, sweet Leliana. Always staying in character. You learned well." – "I am not playing anymore! Don't you understand? This is what I  _am_  now!" But Marjolaine only smiled. "Oh please. Trying to be 'just good'? Who are you trying to fool, girl? You're only waiting for your moment to strike."

Leliana almost screamed. "I already  _had_  that moment, Marjolaine! Don't you remember Denerim?" But then her face changed and she stared at Marjolaine incredulously. "But you don't see that, do you? You really believe that this is  _still_  the old game? That's… You – you are crazy! You are actually paranoid, aren't you? I am being killed by a crazy person." _How ironic is that?_ Morrigan couldn't help but wonder. Many people who have died by one of Leliana's arrows might claim the exact same thing… Still the girl was right: Marjolaine was obviously crazy. Her laugh did seem to emphasize that point. Not exactly a manic laughter, but there was a subtle hint if you knew where to look.

"Oh, please, Leliana. It  _is_  the Game. It always has been. Why can't you just accept that I simply beat you at it? Again. I win, you lose. No hard feelings." She started to pace up and down before the girl, probably looking nonchalant to the untrained eye. But Morrigan knew that walk.  _More like a predator before its prey._  "Why do you always have to be so serious nowadays? We still have a few minutes before you shut your eyes and take your last breath. Why not enjoy being together? Why all the contempt? There used to be a time when you loved this stuff – and me."  _Oh, this is where we are going? Some heart-breaking love-story. Oh, girl, you really know how to get yourself into trouble._

Leliana's voice was fainter, cracking. "There is nothing left of that, Marjolaine," she said dead serious. "Not after you betrayed me, not after you – you turned your back on me and gave me to…to those evil men. Not after – after those vile things, they did to me…"

Marjolaine stared at the bard. "What did you say? 'Evil men'? 'Vile things'? Maker's breath, you're sounding like a little girl, Leliana! Those were not 'evil men', they were  _monsters_! Harwen Raleigh was probably one of the sickest men I ever met. And his soldiers were scum. For crying out loud, girl: they  _raped_  you,  _humiliated_  and  _tortured_  you. How long, Leliana? Days? Weeks, more likely!"

_Oh._

"How often? How many? Damn it, those were bastard sons of whores, Leliana! And you speak of 'evil men'? What are you – a six-year-old?"

Morrigan stared at the scenery as the words echoed in her mind.  _Humiliated._   _Raped. Tortured. For weeks._ She looked at Leliana as she lay there – helpless, defeated, dying.  _For weeks!_  As she looked at the grimace of Marjolaine while the woman kept ranting on, Morrigan realized that something had changed here. "You know, what you are, dear? You're _weak_. Pathetic. If it had been me who suffered through that – and if I had escaped like you did – it would have made me stronger, fiercer, more deadly than ever. But you? You decide to be a little child again. Being 'good'! You know what? You deserve this, you deserve every second for your pathetic weakness – it really suits you."

That was when hot anger started to rise in Morrigan. There was...something in those words. An oddly familiar sound.  _Strength by suffering. That sounds like something_ she  _would have taught me._ The thought of Flemeth had suddenly been there in her mind. The witch could almost feel the lightning inside her hand, pushing hard to be released. Pushing to end that woman's wild rant. But as she looked at Leliana, she could see her lips moving. The girl was talking silently. What was she saying? Her voice was too weak, almost intelligible.

"What is that?" Marjolaine asked, as she leaned over. Her eyes grew wide as she listened closer. "You're kidding me, aren't you? Are you actually  _praying_ , Leliana? Do you really want to play this charade till the bitter end?" Laughing, she moved a step back and spread her arms wide open, looking up to the skies. "Fine with me. Let's see it then. Let's see how your precious Maker gets you out of this! Will he make the earth shake to devour me? Will fires rain from the sky to burn me from this world? You should better get some divine help really soon, my dear. Because  _now_  you really need it."

Morrigan rolled her eyes.  _Great. I'll never hear the end of that. Well, I'll be damned…_ She rose up from her hiding place.

Marjolaine's head spun around, but in the middle of her movement, Morrigan had already released Lighting. "What the –" was all that the woman managed before the bolt hit her and knocked her from her feet. Wordlessly, Morrigan moved towards the Orlesian woman, already refocusing.  _I'll enjoy this. Very much._

"Who – who are  _you_?" Marjolaine stammered.

"Well, I would be the one who killed quite a few of your men in the last ten minutes or so," Morrigan stated, still approaching the woman on the ground, "Oh, and I also did the very same thing with your assassins, too, some years ago. Come to think of it: You  _really_  should invest in more capable goons. It does pay up in the end."

_Careful, Morrigan. Not too much gloating. That was the mistake she made. Just finish it off._

Marjolaine sat straight up, staring at her.  _"_ Oh, isn't that a surprise? You're that wild apostate friend of Leliana." This word actually hurt.  _'Friend' of Leliana._  It almost shook her. Marjolaine had already gotten back her wicked grin: "But not that much of a good friend, it seems. I can't remember you being with her when she finally confronted me. I wonder, why she didn't want to have you around that day..."

_Seriously? That's the way you intend to play this? Manipulate me by implying that the girl doesn't like me? Yes,_ that _should hurt me very much indeed._ Morrigan grinned back. _And do you really think that I don't see you reaching back at your belt?_

"You know what I think?" Marjolaine said, making conversation. "I think she didn't trust you. To her, you were good enough for killing my men – doing the dirty work. But not trustworthy enough to be there when it came to facing the truth. I can't blame you. She does that – manipulating people. That's why you shouldn't…"

Morrigan stood right before her now and almost tenderly she touched that woman's chin. "You're right, Marjolaine. She did not trust me. She did not want me there.  _None of them_ did. For one very simple reason." – "And what might that be?" Marjolaine said rather confident.  _Already reached your dagger? Or are you just very sure that I won't kill you in the next ten seconds?_

"Well, you see: That girl and the Warden, they are the kind of people always busy doing the  _good_  thing. They tend to hesitate when it comes to doing  _what has to be done_." She stared into that woman's cold eyes, knowing that her own weren't any warmer. "I, on the other hand, don't."

Marjolaine's skull couldn't resist the raw primal power of the lighting burst as Morrigan released it.

_What a mess._

And so, the corpse just slumped on the ground, as Morrigan tried to wipe away pieces of Marjolaine from her clothes.

_At least she didn't get any last words this way._

"Well, that was my favorite dress, you know," she announced loudly as she turned towards the bard. "You do owe me a…"

The words stuck in her throat. The girl just leaned there lifelessly against the tree, her eyes closed. "Perfect," Morrigan uttered hoarsely, moving over to Leliana (just a tiny bit more rushed than intended). "I am the one taking care of your problems and just when I do cover myself in your girlfriend's blood,  _you_ think that it would be just the right time to die?" She felt a weak pulse. At once, she started focusing again. "Well, I don't think so, girl." She concentrated on her Healing. It took a moment to change to that pattern.  _Didn't have to use it much lately…_  Still louder - as if to reassure herself, too - she added: "You will not die today, girl."

* * *

"Well, and I am rather confident that that was merely it." Morrigan finished. "Grabbed the girl, thought that there might be some Healing mage in a keep full of soldiers…and you know the rest."

Wynne's eyes fixated her own. "I believe you, Morrigan" she said.

The witch frowned.  _Really? That would be new._

As if she had read her mind, the mage added: "That is: I do believe that it is  _generally_  true. I'm very sure that you changed bits and left others out. And I am sure that you were lying when you said that you didn't understand a word of what Leliana and Marjolaine talked about."

"'Tis the truth," lied Morrigan. Of course she hadn't told the old woman about the dark secrets of Leliana she had learned of – which was not an act of compassion, she assured herself. It was more like that there was no actual reason why Wynne should know about Leliana's torment.

"Still," The mage continued as if she hadn't even heard Morrigan's protest, "None of this explains,  _why_  you did that."

_No, it doesn't. But I most certainly will not let you know that I don't have any answers to that myself._  Morrigan put on a cunning smile. "Why, old woman, I was rather sure that we were clear on that point long ago: my motives are none of your concern. Nor will they ever be."

There was no way to tell if Wynne spotted any sign of her insecurity. "I am not concerned about you, Morrigan. Leliana's health is all that matters to me – while I am rather sure that you only care about that magical necklace of hers that you kept."

_So you_ did  _realize that it was magical, Wynne. I should have known._ Still, the mage's mentioning of the necklace was helpful.  _Maybe that's it. Maybe that is why I hope that she will pull through – because I need her to learn more about it._

Well, that was a potential way of rationalizing it. And she was certainly more comfortable with that explanation than with the fact that it were Marjolaine's revelations of Leliana's past that made her see the girl with different eyes now. She wiped that thought away.

"Well, it is powerful, you must have recognized that, too." She took up Wynne's theory graciously. "And that delicate pattern doesn't look familiar. It might be from Tevinter even. Don't you think that it is slightly strange that a Chantry Sister would run around with an artifact like that? That  _she_  would run around with something like that?"

Wynne looked at her for an instance. Then, all of a sudden, she rose up, shaking her head.  _That arrogance. She doesn't even need to say it out aloud, her eyes shout it out: 'I knew it'._

"I pity you, Morrigan," Wynne stated as she turned toward the door. "You really are a heartless creature. We are talking about a woman's life here. And all you care about is some piece of arcane jewelry. Not once in our conversation did you even care to ask how she is. If she will  _live_." She opened the door, but looked back with that sad look she could pull off so easily. "You truly deserve that lonely misanthropic life of yours. Go ahead and leave. Or stay. It doesn't matter to me. Just stay away from Leliana. She is a good person. And even in the peril she was in, she deserved a kind-hearted savior, someone with a soul. Not…not…" She looked away. "Not you," she finished.

The door shut behind her. Morrigan was stunned. That had been an outburst by Wynnes' standards.  _How dare she?_ Hot anger rose in her.  _So, now it is my fault that no valiant knight or good-natured heroine was there when she needed them? Well, it was just me that was there when things needed to be done. And, as usual, I did them, for reasons that are mine and mine alone. This is what I am, old woman. You should have known._

Her muscles started aching again as she fell back on the bed.

_This_ is _what I am._


	3. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After waking up from her poisoning, Leliana just HAS to talk to Morrigan about what happened. The conversation takes a twist none of them expected...

### 

Chapter 3 - Confrontation 

"Are you sure about this?" Wynne's face looked worried. "I understand that you want to talk to her, but your condition… It has been a serious poisoning, Leliana. And you've only been up for…not even an hour."

"I'm fine, Wynne." Leliana said softly. Well, that was a lie. Her legs still felt somewhat shaky, but she was able to control that. And maybe she wouldn't get another chance for this. "I just have to talk to her. After all, she saved my life, non?" It still was hard to comprehend all of what had happened. And this certainly was the strangest bit. Of course, Morrigan had saved her life before – as well as she had saved Morrigan's. But that had been in battle, during the Blight. This was something completely different.  _Suddenly, she was there._

Wynne sighed. "I know. And I will not stop you." The light of the torch lighting up the stairway to the tower flickered, but it didn't go out. A good thing, since it was the middle of the night already and pitch-black outside. "I would just be more comfortable if you waited until tomorrow. Went back to bed again. Regained some strength."

That sounded like the right thing to do, Leliana had to admit. Still…

"What if she is already gone by then? It's something that she might do, you know." It had been surprising that the witch had stayed until now. Leliana had expected her to be gone the moment she had delivered her to the guards. Morrigan didn't like castles and keeps – and she certainly didn't like being around too many people.  _Does that mean something, too?_

She gave Wynne a reassuring smile. "It has to be now, Wynne. I won't forgive myself if I let her get away without thanking her. Besides that: She won't kill me. Not after she rescued me before."

Wynne looked sourly. "That doesn't mean that she won't – do what she does. Mock you. Hurt you. You know how stressful it can be, talking to her. And in your condition…" She broke up when she saw the grim determination in Leliana's eyes. "Well, I guess, you have to do what you have to do then. But please, Leliana: don't let her get to you. It's still Morrigan."

The bard contemplated that last sentence as she climbed the stairs. Was it still Morrigan?  _Of course it is, foolish girl. Yes, she saved you, but she still killed Marjolaine cold-hearted._ Leliana couldn't blame her for that, though. She had tried to deny it, but there was no use: that moment when Marjolaine had been… _destroyed_ , it had felt like a release to her. It was not right to be satisfied by the death of a human being, but Marjolaine – she had been the root of all evil in her life. She had deserved the way Morrigan had executed her. That last moment before everything had faded to black – it had been a relief. Morrigan had been there when all seemed hopeless, when the poison had taken her ability to move. She had never felt that helpless.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. She had felt even more desperate long ago. In that prison. But she tried not to think about that.  _Those memories will come back soon enough._  How long until she might here that voice again?  _'…once we've had our fun, of course.'_  When she had stuck the dagger into Raleigh's throat, she had hoped that this was enough to kill his voice, too. It wasn't. Vengeance – it had seemed so desireable. But after it was done, it had turned out to be useless. It didn't change a bit.

But this – it did have to mean something, didn't it? It had to be the Maker's doing. She had prayed in that moment of desperation, and suddenly  _she_  had been there.  _Morrigan. Of all people. Why her?_  It couldn't be a coincidence, Leliana was sure. But what did it mean?

Yes, she had always had that feeling that she would meet the witch again, even more when it had become clear that she would have to pass the Korcari Wilds once again.

But what were the actual odds? The Wilds were vast and there was no sign that Morrigan had returned there after the Blight at all. She had disappeared without any words after Elissa's battle with the archdemon –  _after her death –_ and no-one had heard of the witch afterwards. The whole story had been so…incomplete. And Leliana did believe that all stories would have a proper ending – no matter, if it was a happy or sad one.  _With Morrigan? Probably sad._

She had reached the top floor as she suddenly noticed her own fear. Now that the door was just a few steps away, a shadow of doubt filled her head.  _What if life isn't like a story? What if there is no such thing as a need for an ending? Maybe…it was all coincidence. Am I trying to read too much into it?_ From one moment to the other she felt afraid to face the witch again. Maybe nothing had changed and Morrigan would just…do what she always does.  _Or maybe she's already asleep._

But she wasn't. Leliana could see that the door was just ajar. And though the slit she could see Morrigan from behind, sitting in front of the table. She was looking down – reading something maybe?  _I've gone this far. I won't back off now. What is the worst that can happen? I thank her and she says something mean in return. Nothing new. Nothing I haven't dealt with before._

She took a deep breath and went closer silently.

"Morrigan?" she said, as she opened the door.

* * *

Morrigan spun around, the chair falling down on the floor as she reached for her staff. In an instant, she was ready to face the intruder – just to see Leliana at the door.

 _She is up!_  The witch wondered at the intensity of that thought.  _Why am I so surprised? It was obvious that the old woman would be able to help her. And once again: why do I even care?_  She relaxed, putting down her staff.

"Oh, it's just…you." She was rather content with the way the words came out. The indifference in her voice should not give away that she felt – what?  _Relieved? Glad that she survived?_   _Pull yourself together, woman!_  "Foolish Chantry girl," she added, "Why would you sneak up on me like that? You could have gotten yourself in real trouble if I had just shot that fireball at you." Well, that was a lie. She hadn't been that quick, she had to admit. But the girl didn't need to know that. And judging from the expression on Leliana's face, the girl had bought it.

"I…am sorry. I just came here to tell you," she seemed rather insecure, as if she didn't know why she was here herself.  _Finally something we do have in common._  "Well, I heard that you were still here at the keep… and I just wanted to tell you that I am up and…feeling well. And I…saw what you did and wanted to…thank you?"

Morrigan straightened up. At least she wasn't the only one feeling uncomfortable. "Your apology is accepted. As is your gratitude." Silence filled the room. Obviously Leliana had expected more – or maybe she was looking for something else to say.  _Probably some emotional blah. Stop her before she tries to hug you and declare you her new best friend in the world._ "Since you are here anyways, I do have a question or two…" – "Yes?" Leliana seemed rather intrigued. At least she finally decided to step in the room.

"…a question or two about that necklace of yours," Morrigan finished, lifting up the small piece of jewellery from the table where she had examined it. Something showed on the bard's face. Surprise perhaps? "Oh. About that thing?" Well, that sounded more disappointed than surprised, decided Morrigan.  _What else did you think I would ask? 'How is the whole being-poisoned-by-your-former-lover-story working out for you'?_

"I wonder: how might some foolish little Chantry girl come into the possession of such a powerful magical artifact? Or, to state the obvious: did some dim-witted Tranquil just give it to you or did you actually grab it from the dead hands of some poor mage you hunted down? Admittedly, I do still have problems picturing you doing the latter, but…" – "I did not steal it from anyone", the bard protested, "I bought in Val Royeaux. And I had no idea at all that it was magical."

Morrigan frowned. "You...had no idea?"

The girl just shrugged. "How could I? It had no sign saying 'magical necklace' on it. It was just meant as a gift."

The witch blinked. Why would she buy something like that? "Oh my. A gift? Seriously? Even without knowing anything of its origin, this thing must have been ridiculously expensive. For whom would you buy such a…?" A thought struck her mind.  _No. She can't possibly…_  "Please,  _please_  tell me that you did not buy it as some peace gift for that Marjolaine of yours? Even for you it should be merely impossible to be that gullible, girl!"

Leliana looked insulted. "Of course not! I never expected to see her again. And even if I had, I wouldn't have brought a gift, but an extra dagger with me. It was not meant for her. It…" The bard fell silent abruptly. She stared down on her feet. "I - it was a gift for you, Morrigan."

Morrigan stared at her blankly.  _What?_ She blinked, desperately trying to wrap her head around what she had just heard. "For me?" she managed, her voice almost a squeak. "Why the… Why would you do such a thing? What would be the use of that?" The bard still looked down in embarrassment. Was that a blush on her face?

"I…When I saw it, I was just…struck by its pattern. Complex, yet… strangely beautiful. I - I thought that it might look good on you. And - that you might like it. I know it sounds silly," she raised her gaze a little, "But I just knew I had to buy it, just in case I ever ran into you again."

Silly? It was madness!  _Which is why I shouldn't be surprised, should I? After all, it's Leliana. She_ does  _things like that._ Yet it made no sense at all. Morrigan had to clear her throat before she could speak again. She couldn't help shaking her head in disbelief. "A gift…for me? How –  _how_  did you come up with that idea? If you didn't even know that it was magical, why should  _I_  of all people be interested in such a…a…" She gestured at the necklace rather helplessly, looking for a word, "…pathetic display of decadence?"  _It is beautiful, though._

The bard seemed even more uncomfortable. "I must admit that I…overheard something at that time in camp. A conversation between you and Elissa. You were telling her a story from your childhood. How you admired the wealth of some noble girl. How you stole her golden mirror and kept it to yourself. How Flemeth found out and smashed it. I found that so…sad. After that night, whenever I looked at those necklaces and amulets you are wearing, I had to think of that story. And…when I saw this one in Val Royeaux, it came back to me again. That's when I swore to myself that I would give you this necklace, should we ever meet again."

The witch was paralyzed. She had listened to her telling this embarrassing old story? And more than that: she had remembered it?  _Not even_ I  _have thought about this for a long time._ How did the girl do that? And why?  _Still…_

"You  _are_  crazy," she stated, trying to sound as condescending as possible. "So you heard a foolish story more than three years ago. And that is your reason for buying such an expensive piece of jewellery? For  _me_? Why would be interested in anything you gave me? You and I, we are not even friends!"

Leliana looked up. "Well, that was hardly my doing, was it?" she answered reproachfully. Morrigan frowned. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

It seemed to upset the girl. "Well, it is not me who didn't want us to be friends," she snapped, "I tried to talk to you, to be nice…to understand you. Oh, again and again I tried to make any kind of conversation to find some way for us to get along. And again and again you would react by insulting me. Leaving out no chance to show me – or the others, for that matter – how worthless and inferior we all were compared to strong and mighty Morrigan. Mighty Morrigan, who spent every single night alone, at the other side of the camp, pretending to be above it all. Too proud to show how miserable she was deep inside."

Morrigan laughed disdainfully, "Too proud? Oh my, playing the hypocrite again, are we?"

The bard looked uncertain. "What do you mean?" – "Well, it so happens that I was witness to Marjolaine's gloating, girl. The whole story of what she had done to you…what those men had done to you." Leliana's eyes went wide, she gasped. But the witch was not ready to let it go just yet. "And  _you_  speak to me of pride and pretense? 'Tis  _you_  who should be miserable after what has been done to you. And most certainly you are. Yet you're playing the merry little Chantry girl, telling others to cheer up, to believe in all the good in the world, when you know full well what a dark and evil place it is. Still you feast on those lies of the Chantry and of the Maker and of some ridiculous plan behind it all, trying to make sense where there is none. Denying what you witnessed yourself while at the same time pointing at me in your self-rightousness. No, girl, 'tis you who is the pretender. Locking all atrocities away from you, telling yourself it never happened. Covering it up with a smile for those around you – instead of facing your own past…" She wanted to go on, but a look in the bard's face stopped her. Leliana's eyes were shimmering.  _Oh no, don't start crying, girl. Don't embarrass yorself any further than you already have._

"How can you say something like that?" The girl's voice was trembling. "How  _dare_  you, Morrigan? I  _am_  facing what has happened every single night. Each time I wake up, bathed in sweat. Each time I look in a mirror. Maker, each time I let my mind wander, there is a chance that it will take me back there. Oh, I  _am_ trying to forget. Who wouldn't? I was shattered and smashed into pieces. Do you know how it feels like to be betrayed by the only person you truly believed in? To realize that you have been nothing but a…a  _thing_  to be played with? Do you know how it feels to be passed on like an object to other people, cruel people, who – who don't even think of as a human being, but an empty vessel. Can you imagine what it is like to feel not only your heart, but your  _soul_  break, when you beg them to stop…when you desperately try to understand how they can do that to another being?  _Can you imagine_ , Morrigan?" Tears were running down Leliana's cheek, her pale face distorted by the pain.

Morrigan wanted to say something, anything. But she couldn't. It was the words. Each word had felt like a whiplash straight into her face…no, straight into her head.

_'Betrayed by the only person you truly believed in'._

_'A thing to be played with'._

Images of Flemeth raced through her mind. Images she had thought shut away for good. From her childhood. And from the night when she learned.

_'People who don't think of you as a human being'._

The memories cut her like a knife, each strike slashing away a piece of her, as she remembered that moment.

_'Shattered'._

All her life she had tried to tell herself that Flemeth's treatment had served a purpose for her. To make her harder and tougher. And then one look into the grimoire had made her realize what her mother truly saw in her.

_'An empty vessel'._

Her throat was dry, as she tried to force something out. "I – I…" She saw the bard sitting down on the bed. No, not sitting down: merely collapsing. Memories returned at that sight. There she was again…Flemeth's groimoire finally in her hands. She had collapsed there, too, unseen by the others in camp – unable to decide whether to break out in tears or cry in rage. She had chosen rage that night.

Leliana didn't. She buried her face in her hands as she cried. "I was destroyed then, Morrigan," she sobbed. "Do you know how it feels to be…to be…"

"…broken?" Her own voice was merely a groan.  _She knows. Of all people it is_ her _that understands._  Leliana looked at her with those wet, pained eyes. She nodded. Slowly Morrigan made a step towards, only half in control of herself, half in trance.  _What am I doing?_  A part of her tried to resist. But another didn't. Probably the one that had wanted to cry that night. The one she had denied.

She hadn't even realized how she had gone over and sat down next to the bard. "I do", she whispered. "Believe me: I do know how it feels."

It was a strange thing to say. Not that it wasn't true – it was. Still: talking to someone in that way. It was…new to her. Suddenly she felt Leliana's head on her shoulders. She hadn't noticed how the girl had come closer and now her arms were slung around Morrigan tightly. Leliana wept.

"I…I tried to be brave, Morrigan," she managed. "I swore to myself that I wouldn't break…I…wouldn't give them that pleasure. That was on the first day. On the second I…I just wanted to die…really die. And finally…" The girl's voice was but a whisper. Still. "And finally…I…just…begged them to kill me, Morrigan. I would have done anything for it. I'd taken any humiliation that they could have thought of…and they could think of a lot…if they just would end this…this…miserable pile of flesh…that had been…me." She paused for a moment. "That was the third day, Morrigan. It got worse from there…" Morrigan had to swallow deeply. She felt her own arm move.  _What are you doing there? This is_ Leliana _! That foolish Chantry Sister. The one you despise. The one you…_  The voice in her head was angry. But faint. Morrigan shut it away. No, that was not the girl she despised. The bard had turned into something different. Morrigan had no explanation what or how. But she actually  _felt_ something now.

Somewhat helplessly she lay her arm around Leliana, hoping that she was doing it right. Compassion. Not something Flemeth had taught her.  _What shall I do? I probably should say something…comforting, right?_  She cleared her throat and tried to make her voice sound as soothing as possible. "It – it is over, Leliana. They cannot hurt you anymore."

There was a moment of silence. "I know," the girl said, in a voice firmer than before. "I killed them all." The witch's eyes widened.  _Oh, yes. I forgot. She does_ those _things, too._

Silence again. It might have been a minute or two while she sat there, holding the bard in her arm. And it felt…good. So  _close_. Leliana's breath seemed to calm down, her weeping had stopped.  _Is she feeling it, too? And what exactly is_ it _?_  How did this situation change everything from one moment to another?  _And how could ever I despise this girl so much, when she is so…warm?_

"Morrigan", Leliana's voice was soft again. "What was it that happened to you?" The witch frowned. "What do you mean?"

Leliana lifted her head and looked her straight in the eyes. "You said that you know. Know how it feels. How?"

Morrigan took a deep breath.  _I will not make a scene like that. I will not cry. I didn't back then – and I won't now._ "Well," she began, trying to find her tone. "You know…'tis pretty much the usual story. Witch mother raises witch daughter, makes daughter's life a living hell, keeps her isolated and alone, punishes her whenever she wants to break out of it for a minute. And…" Those words didn't come out easily at all. "And finally the witch daughter finds out that her mother just needed a new body for her eternal life project…and that her own mind…her personality was just a nuisance to her. Something to be cast into oblivion when the time was ripe." Well, that wasn't that bad, was it? At least she hadn't shed a tear. _Never a tear. I will never give you that, mother._

"That is…so cruel." Leliana looked shocked. "She needed you as some…kind of…new dress?" – "Well, not the most tasteful way to describe it, I daresay. But neither a wrong one." It really was lifting some weight from her – talking about it. Well, of course: she had told the Cousland girl about it. But that had been different. She had needed someone to face Flemeth when she could not. Not without losing it all. But  _this_  right here – it was something else. She didn't need to tell Leliana about it to gain something. She just  _wanted_  to share it with her.  _Because she can understand me. How ironic: of all people, it is the one I least expected. The one I turned away as soon as she opened that babbling mouth of hers. Never expected that two sensible words would pass those lips._

Leliana stared at her. "What would have happened to your mind? Your…soul? Would she just have it thrown away?" – "I guess it would not lie around anywhere. Cast into the Fade maybe. But more likely Flemeth would have found a way to – consume it." A cold shiver ran down the witch's spine as she thought about it. "But basically it would have been as if I never existed, I suppose."

The bard hugged her again. "I am so sorry, Morrigan. I had no idea."

Now  _that_  was uncomfortable again, Morrigan decided. It had been one thing to hold the girl and listen to her cries. But to actually be comforted by someone was…different (as was a lot of this). She couldn't decide whether she liked it just now. Still that warm feeling was back as she felt Leliana's head on her shoulder. She realized in amazement that she did like _that_.

A thought shot through her head. "Why, wait a moment. You…had no idea? But – but weren't you there fighting her with Elissa and Alistair?" Leliana let go again – Morrigan silently cursed herself that she couldn't have waited with her question ( _just for few more moments!_ ) – and looked at her. "Well, yes, I was. But I didn't know what she really did to you. Elissa just told me that she needed our help with that – that  _you_  needed our help. And so we were there."

Morrigan was taken aback. "You fought Flemeth –  _the_  Flemeth! – just because that Warden told you that  _I_  was in danger? That was enough for you?"

Leliana looked at her as if she didn't even understand the question. "Of course it was," she said, like stating the obvious. "We were in this together. You were one of us, Morrigan. That was how it worked. Even if you didn't think of us as friends: we were companions back then. We had to look out for each other. Elissa knew that, may the Maker bless her soul. That's why she decided to help you. And me with Marjolaine. And Alistair with his sister." In some strange way, that  _did_  make sense. "Come to think of it, she helped a lot of people."

Morrigan nodded. "Yes, you wouldn't think there was a Blight to be stopped with all the personal problems that woman solved."

That made Leliana smile, a strangely welcome sight after all her tears.  _Has she always been that beautiful when she smiled? And why did I never notice it before?_ She tried to shake that thought away. It went into a strange direction.  _What_ is _going on with me?_

Nonetheless, the bard's words made her think. Elissa had been there for the group. So had all the others. Wynne, Zevran, Oghren – in his own way. Even Alistair.

…and Leliana.  _Though I always pushed her away and mocked her. And I was hardly the only one. Still, she kept helping out wherever she could. Despite everything that she had been through. She just kept on being…nice._

"Leliana?" The witch hesitated as the girl looked up again.  _Dare I ask?_  "I wonder: how did you do it? How did you become…you? After all that has happened, how did you come to…trust and care and help, instead of…I don't know…"  _Trusting no one? Being miserable? Isolating yourself from the rest of the world?_

"It was…" the bard began, seeming to contemplate the question, before she finished: "I had help." Morrigan rolled her eyes. "That was meant to be a serious question. Could we please discuss this matter without any mention of the Maker talking to you?"

"I didn't mean  _that_ ," Leliana replied. "It was a woman. A Revered Mother." Her gaze seemed to drift away. "I think she saved me in more than one way. She helped me escape from my cell, yes. But more than that, she helped me find a way back…well, not actually 'back'. She showed me that I could change my ways, try to be a better person than before. Because…she understood me, Morrigan. She told me that she once was like me, and I knew it was true. She was so trustworthy and helpful. Supportive. Loyal. And kind! Oh, ever so kind. She believed in me and she showed me, that there were good people in this world."

Morrigan was staring into Leliana's eyes as the words echoed in her mind.

_Supportive._

_Loyal._

_Kind._

_Understanding._

Could it be that…? "She sounds like a…very special person" Morrigan was surprised how frail her own voice sounded.

"Oh, she was," Leliana nodded, not letting her eyes of Morrigan even for an instant.  _Does she think what I think? Does she_ see _it?_  "Yes, she was…very special to me. It was through her that I learned, how one single person may change your life. Marjolaine did just that…in a very cruel way. She, on the other hand, changed my life for the better. She was so warm and kind-hearted and…and…"

Morrigan's lips seemed to move by themselves. "And  _good_ ", the witch finished, "Just good." The bard nodded even more emphatically. "Yes! 'Just good'. That's it, Morrigan. How did you…"

That was when she kissed Leliana. What else was there to do?

It all seemed so clear. Her lips on Leliana's, her hand touching the bard's cheek. It felt so...fitting. Good. Right. Morrigan was surprised at how easy it all seemed right in this moment. She was even more surprised to realize that there was not the faintest hint of resistance by the girl. Leliana closed her eyes and just…returned the kiss. As if it was the most natural thing. Well, in a way it was. The bard's lips were so…

 _What_ are _you doing?_ The voice in her head cut through the moment like a knife.  _This is not you. Pull yourself together!_

Abruptly she just pulled away and merely jumped up, much to Leliana's surprise. "What are we doing here? This…is ridiculous!" Morrigan stammered.  _Yes, it is!_  As she turned away from the bard, she saw Leliana sadly shaking her head, her lips forming a silent 'No'.

"I mean…you and me? Seriously? What was I thinking?" – "No, Morrigan, please don't," she heard Leliana whispering.

She spun around. "What? Don't  _what?_ " Her words sounded harsh, furious even. More to herself than towards the bard, she noticed.

Leliana looked at her sadly. "Don't do what you are about to do. What you always do. Pushing away everyone coming close to you. Thinking with your head, not with your heart." – "Oh, please! Don't you dare throwing your little cheery proverbs at me. 'Thinking with my head'? Yes, I tend to do that. 'Tis called 'rational thinking', girl! Something that grown-ups do."

Leliana firmly shook her head. "No, Morrigan it is not rational at all. Or at least not the right kind."  _The 'right kind of rational'? What crazy notion was that?_ The girl rose up and made a step towards Morrigan…and another. Surprised, Morrigan recognized that she actually shied away. Even more so as Leliana continued. "This is the pattern Flemeth wanted for you, Morrigan. Isolation. Assuring yourself that nobody is worth your attention. That all the other people are beneath you – only to be used, not to be cared for. That is not you – it's Flemeth's Morrigan."

In her back, Morrigan felt the table – no further room to back away.

Defiantly, she almost shouted back. "Oh, is that so? 'Flemeth's Morrigan', is it? And you would happen to know another one, right? How so, I wonder?" The girl just looked at her. No further movement, just that sincere look. "Because I  _saw_  her. You saved my life, Morrigan. Where is the rationality in that? You killed Marjolaine. You carried me all the way here when you could have just let me die right there in the Wilds. Why? And when you had brought me to Wynne, you could have just walked away. Never to be seen again. But you stayed here. You held me in your arms when I was crying just a few minutes ago. Why would you do that? We were  _sharing_  something here. And you were the one who kissed me. That was not rational, Morrigan. And it was not Flemeth. It was you. It  _is_  you."

She was holding her breath. Again, Leliana's word shook her to the core. Never had she thought about it that way. Had she  _thought_  at all from that moment on when she saw that girl lying there in the dirt, a gloating Marjolaine before her?

"Leave, girl." Her voice was hoarse.

Leliana was silent for a moment. Then she nodded. "Yes. I probably…should leave…and rest. And I know that you probably need your time to think this through. I will be waiting for your answer. And know this, Morrigan: If your answer is No, I will accept it. You will never hear of me again." Morrigan felt a shiver coming down her spine when she felt the bard touch her cheek. "But, please: promise me to think this through – with your head  _and_  your heart. Don't just rob yourself of the chance for something…something good for no reason. Please." A last look out of her sad blue eyes and the bard turned around to leave. Morrigan couldn't say a word.  _Are there any words for this?_  But just as the girl was about to leave the room, she turned around one last time. "Oh, and it's Leliana" she said.

Morrigan frowned.  _What does she mean?_  "My name", said the bard "You used to call me 'girl' or 'bard' or 'fool'. I think today was the first time I heard you saying my actual name. Could you please…keep that up?" She lowered her head, looking almost shy. "It sounded…nice when you said it."

That was it. Morrigan stared at the door as it shut behind Leliana. She just standing there – lost. Her fingers touched something cold behind her back. She turned around and looked at the necklace on the table. The one she had studied so intently for its inner magic. Leliana's gift. To her. She took it in her hand and studied the pattern once more.

It  _did_  look complex and beautiful at the same time.

As Morrigan closed her eyes, she heard her thoughts coming out of her mouth. "I will think this through. With my head…and my heart. I promise…" Her voice was cracking.

"…Leliana," she added.

It  _did_  sound nice.

* * *

Halfway down the staircase, Leliana had to stop and take a break. She took hold of the cold stone wall. It was better that way. Better to wait a moment, before she just fell down. It was a strange feeling: on the one hand, her body was weary, without a doubt still recovering from what might have killed her. Her legs felt weak, her every step was shaky and insecure.

Then again, there was this euphoria in her head, pushing away all tiredness. Her mind was racing – as was her heart. She knew that only too well: a simple kiss could have that effect. But this one hadn't been simple. Part of her still feared that this was just a hallucination – some surprisingly sweet fever-dream.

Well, it wasn't, was it?

 _She kissed me. Morrigan really kissed me!_  There had been more. That tingling, when the witch had softly embraced her as she was crying. The pounding of her heart when she had looked her deep in the eyes and first felt that something was different. But the kiss…it had shot her mind right through the roof, up into the sky.

"Morrigan kissed me!" She almost gave a start when she realized that she had spoken it out aloud now. But it was just too sweet.

She had never expected this. Oh, there had been a time when she had played around with the thought. Morrigan had always been a fascinating woman to her. Beautiful. Mysterious. Deep. She had fancied that right from the beginning. But after a few conversations – or rather: attempts at conversation, which the witch had just waved away – she had known that this was never going to happen, that Morrigan would never allow them even to be friends.

Still: She had enjoyed that two or three pretty…inappropriate dreams she had about herself and Morrigan at that time. There was a Blight going on and so she had tried to treasure every rare moment of joy. Even if it was just a joyful fantasy: wasn't a minstrel entitled to that? And those dreams had been  _very_  joyful. What harm could they do? After all, they were just that: dreams. Dreams, that hurt no one.

Sometimes it had been hard, though: waking up in the morning, getting back to reality when she saw the woman from her dreams again, but now completely ignoring or even insulting her, instead of…doing those other things. Leliana had had trouble not to blush.

 _But she did kiss me now._  The thought alone seemed to give her new strength. She straightened up and carefully tried another step…and another…

Her legs were weak, but she could manage the rest of the stairs. It would be easier from now on, wouldn't it? Just some steps back to her room. She did stumble when her knee suddenly gave in for an instance.  _Damn you, Marjolaine!_

But still, all that Marjolaine had done, all the consequences of her own naïvety and Marjolaine's vileness – it had all led her to this path. Towards the Maker and the Chantry. Towards Elissa and the good fight.  _And now to this._  Her thoughts rushed back to Morrigan. Marjolaine's poison…and Morrigan's kiss as the cure.  _Isn't that ironic? If I had known Morrigan a few years ago, I would have sworn that it would be the other way round._

She tried another step. It seemed to work. Just around the corner…and then a few more corridors…

Her mind wandered off again. She had to stay calm, keep her expectations down. Or so she told herself.  _She kissed me._ But what did that mean with Morrigan? The witch was complicated – one aspect that Leliana actually liked about her. It added to her beauty.  _But will it block the way for…this? What is_ this _?_

It was dangerous terrain – Leliana realized that she had already let herself go, let her mind bring more feelings into this than it should.  _I should know better. Haven't I been hurt enough in the past?_  What if Morrigan decided that it had been just a moment of weakness? It sounded like something she might do.

Suddenly a shadow cowered over Leliana's thoughts. Had she gone too early? Shouldn't she have refused to go?  _Maybe I should have kissed her again myself? Fight for it? In that last moments she looked as if she felt that I was right. Maybe that was our chance. And maybe I messed it up by leaving._

Could she have done more?  _Should_  she have done more?

Abruptly, she noticedthat she was standing in front of her room's door. How long had she wandered around? She had been in thoughts for…she couldn't tell at all.

As the door opened, the shadow darkened even further.  _It was a mistake, wasn't it? I should have stayed. She will think it over and most likely she will decide that it all was some moment's fancy._ As she slowly stripped of her boots and slipped under the sheet, she realized what that meant with Morrigan.  _If she changes her mind, she will not be here tomorrow. She'll be gone and I will never see her again._

But she knew that she couldn't get up now. She had taken this to the limit and beyond. She knew how to do this and she knew when her body just couldn't do any more.

So, was that the way this story would end? As the shadow fell and her weariness took over, she heard herself speak, like saying a prayer. "Let her do the right thing."

Then she closed her eyes.

Suddenly, she felt a touch on her forehead. Her eyes sprung open again and she looked…at Morrigan. "Maker's breath, that was quick!" she said.


	4. Relapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things don't get any easier after Leliana's and Morrigan's conversation...

### 

Chapter 4 - Relapse 

"Turn around, Morrigan. I will not let you get through to her." The old woman's eyes showed nothing but determination. No hostility whatsoever, but resolute nonetheless. Wynne could be like that when she had made up her mind. Severe, stubborn – but with that ever-controlled calmness. Never showing any aggression.

Well, Morrigan certainly did.

 _Wynne. Two guards. I've managed far worse odds._  She wouldn't let it come to any kind of violence, though – not here, not now, not as long as  _she_  might still need Wynne's knowledge and Healing – but knowing that she could break through that door any time she wanted to, helped to keep her own façade up. "Well, well… A circle mage trying to give _me_  orders. Ironic, isn't it?" she scoffed.

Wynne's face remained unmoved – naturally. "You can try to mock as much as you will. But I will not let you go to her. I will not let you hurt her."

The witch felt hot rage filling her up again. "Oh, and why would I do that, I wonder? Why didn't evil old me think of hurting her while I had the chance after she, you know,  _came to me by her own free will?_ " she said icily.

The old woman just shook her head sadly. "Oh, Morrigan. You know full well: it was exactly what you did. I have no idea why and how you did it, but I saw her coming down from your room. She didn't even seem to notice me as she stumbled though the hallway. But I saw her face. She had cried. Quite a lot. Tell me that this wasn't your doing, Morrigan. Surprise me."

Oh, she wanted to tell her – she actually wanted to bark the truth at that old woman's face just to see her eyes popping out in disbelief. She really wanted to, but…

 _But, she's right, isn't she? You did make her cry._ She had started to really hate that voice in her head.  _That girl came up to you to thank you for saving her life. And what did you do?_ Why couldn't she just shut it away…?  _You insulted and humiliated her, you threw pieces of her darkest memories right at her when she least expected…while she was weak. Why? Because_ that is what you do,  _woman!_   _Bringing pain, misery and despair to all those around you. And now you possibly sent her back into the poison's grasp because you couldn't help but spoiling even that_ one _good moment the girl has had in the past days._

More or less helplessly overwhelmed by her own mind she just tried to stare at Wynne as defiantly as possible. "You have no idea", she spit out.

 _But do I? Really?_ Morrigan could only imagine how dejected Leliana must have looked like when she had left her room. Being sent off like that after...that inicident.

"I am rather glad that I haven't", the mage replied. "Because I certainly wouldn't want to know what is going on in that wicked mind of yours. Which brings us back to the point where I will not let you through to her."

 _This is pointless._  "Do as you wish, old woman. But at least tell me this: When will she wake up again? When will she make you look like the fool oyu most certainly are by deciding _for_   _herself_  that she actually wants to talk to me – whether you like it or not?"

"I don't know when that will be. I don't even know, if…" She seemed to bite her lip. Morrigan couldn't help but stare at her blankly. "If what?" Of course she knew the answer to it.  _'…if she will ever wake up again'. Yes, Morrigan. This time you might actually have sent her to her grave._  "If  _what_ , Wynne? Is she…?"

Wynne's face did show some emotion this time. Sadness, obviously. "I…don't know. She might be in deep sleep to recover, or she might be in a coma or beyond reach in the Fade. She might be pulling through…or there might be no hope at all. It is a vile poison, this one. It's not…"

Morrigan didn't hear any more as she spun around and strode down the corridor as fast as she could. Away from Wynne. Away from…this. She felt a lump in her throat. Yes, she actually felt physically sick.  _Is that my doing? Am I really the one killing her? Is that what I truly want...or what I can't help but do anyway? My nature?_

Thoughts raced through her head as she opened the door and burst into the keep's yard. The faces of some surprised soldiers stared at her. Why? Did she look any different? Or were they just gawking at her like men usually did?  _No matter. I don't have time for this._

The main door was open as usually by this time of day. Behind it, the Wilds called out to her. That was the only way. Her safe haven. She had no idea, whether it would be better if she stayed here and tried to get into that room or if she just ran away.  _Better for whom? Me or her? Or both of us?_  Was there…something in her eye?

A look straight ahead suddenly made it clear. She knew what to do now. She wasn't able to think straight like this. She needed…another shape. For an hour. Maybe two.  _Find a new perspective. Think this through._   _Clear your mind._ Yes, only the rational mind was able to make rational decisions.  _And you have been irrational for too long._

She almost ran towards the gate. Towards the familiar surrounding of the Wilds.

* * *

"Maker's breath, that was quick!" Her own words echoed in Leliana's head. But seeing the witch again so soon…that just had to mean something, right?

 _She touched my forehead. She never used to touch me._ Her mind was racing again. Just a second ago she had felt like falling into deep sleep – the shadow of certain failure embracing her. Soft and tender like a gentle lover, but with a darkness to it that you felt in your bones – each kiss poisonous. Leliana knew that image all too well. Luckily, she had been the shadow back then.

But now, just the blink of an eye later, she was woken up by the very woman she had thought lost forever.  _And she touched me._

Still: as she looked into Morrigan's mysterious yellow eyes, there was something odd despite the warm and comfortable feeling. Something was different.  _Only different? Or wrong?_

"What is that supposed to mean?" asked the witch.

Leliana tried to concentrate. "Well, we just talked a few minutes ago, yes?"

Morrigan's eyes seemed to widen.

_Something is wrong, isn't it?_

* * *

Angrily Morrigan wiped the blood out of her face and stared down at the dead bear before her. Her limbs still hurt from the fight – a fight she hadn't picked. It was the bear's fault!

No, it wasn't. It had been the spider-form. She had lost control; let the animal instincts take over, go hunting. Kill.

Looking around, Morrigan saw that there was no one around. Of course not. Why would someone be here now?

It was irritating. She had planned to go out for an hour, leave it all behind, find inner peace again. Instead she had felt driven the whole time – how long had it been, since she left the keep? – losing control of herself in the spider. Then there had been that bear. And it had gotten really ugly. She had fought fiercely and wild – like the animal she was…or had been then. It had taken all her effort to leave that shape again. It had  _never_  taken her any effort to do that before.

She gave out a raging cry and kicked the corpse's head. "Why did you have to be in my way? Why wake the spider? You brought that upon yourself!"

_Why so angry? It was just an animal._

"I don't kill animals just for the sake of it!" Morrigan shouted out, too furious to wonder why she answered to her own thoughts.

_You don't...too often. It has happened before._

"I lost control. 'Twas the spider."

 _It was not. And you know that. You just unleashed what is in you – what_ is  _you. Bringing poison, misery and destruction. That's what you do. Poisoning. . It is your purpose._

"'Tis not!" she protested. "My purpose is gaining power, getting stronger and ultimately: surviving. The other things are nothing but necessities to make sure I succeed."

_Ah, so rationality has finally found you again. It was about time. So why all the sudden anger about that damage you caused on your way?_

"Because I didn't want to damage  _her!"_  She gasped at her own words. Had she really just said that?

_So it's about the bard again?_

"Yes. 'Tis about the…about Leliana."

_Oh, the name-thing? Seriously? So you're already playing her game, yes?_

"I am most certainly not playing anyone's game!"

She walked away from the corpse…or from the voice. She wasn't sure at all. She tried to focus on the forest instead. Home. Peace. That was what she had been longing for. The whole reason to ran away had been finding control again. Which was working very well, considering that she has just killed an animal twice her size and was talking with herself…

She sunk down onto the dry forest floor. A familiar feeling.

 _She brought it upon herself, you know._  Of course. It would have been just too easy if she could have left the voice behind her like the bear…

 _It was her own fault. Barely on her feet again, running to_ you _for sweet-talk? That's suicidal. Surviving one poison just to take another..._

"I could have prevented it."

_How? By being nice? Who are you kidding?_

"By seeing the signs. And such there must have been. If I had been focused, I could have seen that she was not fully recovered."

_Why is that so important? What is she if not the best example for someone much weaker than you._

"Most people are. That doesn't mean that I wanted her to – possibly die." The thought was frightening. Leliana could be dead by now and she wouldn't even know.

_You've always been oblivious to the lament of weaker humans. That's what is making you strong._

"No. 'Tis what's making me miserable at the end of the day. Magic makes me strong. Taking control, thinking straight, doing what needs to be done – what others don't dare. 'Tis  _that_ , which is making me strong."

_So, again: Why is she of any significance to you?_

"Because she has become more…interesting." That was a good point, actually. And so she finally had found her explanation why she had saved Leliana: suddenly a new interesting dimension on the girl had emerged by the knowledge she had gained in that situation with Marjolaine. That was a good explanation…and a completely rational one. She could deal with 'interesting'.

_But you don't just kiss 'interesting'._

Admittedly, her other voice was right about that. Luckily, she did in fact not do that to anyone she found remotely fascinating.

_So, do you want to sleep with her? Is that it?_

"No!" she protested – more out of instinct than anything else. "I mean…yes, I think I do. But that's not all of it."

_That's the only thing there is. You said it yourself once: It all comes down to sex. The rest, all this nonsense about feelings and emotions is just a wishful fancy._

"I did say such things, yes. But those were Flemeth's teachings, not mine."

… _which have been good enough for you up until now._

"Yes. Until now. Before I had this – this experience with her. That was different from everything I ever felt before."

_How?_

"I don't know. I don't…" Morrigan was searching for words. "It was…deeper.  _You_ know it! You were there, too. You must have felt it, too!"

 _Morrigan, you are talking with yourself here. You can safely presume that I am the part of you that doesn't accept that there was anything remarkable in that...situation. The only thing_ I  _see is that you're losing it – losing strength because of these deceptive glimpses of emotion. You are losing your path because of a Chantry girl, who should be your enemy._

"No, I am taking new perspectives. I am no longer bound to the code of the woman who wanted to nullify my existence for her own immortality. 'Tis what makes me better than the Chantry and its teachings:  _I_  am free. I do not see the world in black and white, but notice that there's sometimes more than meets the eye. I am not bound to any laws. I decide for myself. And I can adjust the rules of  _my_  game when I see fit."

The voice was silent for a moment. Quite a relief.

_Agreed._

That was surprising. She hadn't expected so much insight from herself. Or she had. She was not sure. This  _was_  confusing…

_Agreed, that you are a free person and that this places you above all others. Agreed, that you are wise and know better than just accepting one truth, when there might be more. Agreed, that this is part of what you are. Still, there is a contradiction: You forget the most important thing about what you are…what you do – strength, power and survival. How can you be true to yourself by establishing a weakness in yourself?_

"Caring for Leliana does not weaken me. It makes me stronger."

_How so?_

"Because with her I can go where I did not dare before. To the dark place."

Another pause.

_Interesting. Care to elaborate?_

"In her I did find the one who can understand the Betrayal. She understands. She  _knows._ When the images of Flemeth returned, I suddenly realized how I had avoided those memories. Fled from the mere thought of mother. With Flemeth, that is certainly not a wise thing to do. Ignorance. Shutting one's eyes."

_And now?_

"'Tis is now that I do not longer fear confronting the  _Pain_  because she is there as well. And she is the only person I know who understand the dark place the way I do. When we…when we embraced each other, I felt the strength to enter it again. Because she will do anything to help me out if I do happen to get lost."

_You do realize she only ran away from her own dark place? How can you be sure that she won't flee from this as well?_

Morrigan took a deep breath and tried to speak, but it seemed as if it was Leliana's voice coming out, repeating the words from before: "We were in this together. That was how it worked."

That was what she had said about her reason to fight Flemeth back then. Years ago. At a time when she had no reason to even consider them to be friends. And still she had fought. Against the most legendary Witch of the Wilds. Without even knowing the reason. 'Because that was how it worked…'

The voice inside remained silent.

"You see it now, don't you?"

_Yes. She may run from herself. But she will never run away from those who mean something to her. A strange girl, indeed._

"She does those things."

_She's not really as weak as you thought, is she?_

Morrigan shook her head. And smiled.

Another pause.

_So, you are not planning on turning your life around the way she did? Starting to care for other people now?_

"Of course not!" she replied indignantly. "I am just…making this one exception."

The voice inside her head went quiet. It was a strange feeling, coming to terms with herself again. She felt…at peace. In control again.

 _Well. What do we do now?_ Her mind had cleared up, the anger was gone. The bear – insignificant now. She inhaled the fresh air. Only one way to go.

_Get up. Get back. Get the girl._


	5. The things she does

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is time for another meeting of Morrigan and Leliana - at least, that's what the witch thinks...

### 

Chapter 5 - The things she does 

"So, what do you think? Is she one of them? A witch, I mean." Tarejian closed his eyes and made a grimace. Once again, he wished back those good all times when guard duty used to be so beautifully dull. But not anymore. Not when you were guarding the Sister's chamber – and most certainly not if your partner was Xaidrin.

Xaidrin had been a farmer's son, one simple-hearted youth looking out for adventure, even here at Getheir's Keep. And he liked talking.  _A lot._

"I don't know if she is. And I really don't care." Tarejian replied. Not entirely true, he had to admit. He did care – since the idea of a witch running around here wasn't exactly helping to sooth his mind.

"Well, Verdain thinks she is. And he would know since he was raised in a town where a real witch lived!" Xaidrin kept blabbering on.

Of course, the arrival of the two mysterious women had spawned gossip beyond control in a place like the keep. Rumors had it that the Chantry Sister, who was called Leliana, was _the_  Leliana from the tales of the last Blight. It could be true, actually, since Mistress Wynne obviously knew the Sister – and it was well-known that Mistress Wynne had fought side by side with the Warden and King Alistair. Though she never spoke of it, when asked, Wynne's mild smile was answer enough for most of them.

This woman, Morrigan, however – well, nobody seemed to know who she was. And there was no Morrigan in the tales of the Blight. At least not in those that he had heard. He shifted uncomfortably. Mistress Wynne had demanded that the dark-haired woman should not disturb the Sister's recovery. She had upset Leliana, maybe even poisoned her again if the rumours could be believed.

Tarejian yawned. It was rather ridiculous: why would she save the woman and then poison her? It didn't make any sense. But then…what did? Whatever was going on between these three women, well, it certainly was a mystery to him. Still he hoped that it wouldn't come to the situation that the dark-haired woman tried to gain entrance – at least not on his watch. He certainly wouldn't like a confrontation with her.

Again he had to yawn. There was no need to be upset, though. Morrigan had left the keep this morning, heading for the Wilds. She hadn't been seen since. And it was already evening as his own weariness kept reminding him.

…which was odd.

 _I'm not usually that tired before midnight. Come to think of it: I wasn't that tired_ a minute _ago._

Suddenly he realized that Xaidrin hadn't been talking for some time. He turned his head – slowly – and saw his companion leaning against the wall, his eyes closed, gently snoring.

 _Something is not right._ A veil of grey was softly beginning to cover his sight. He tried to fight it, but his eyes were heavy. As he grew wearier by the second, unable to move his feet anymore, he recognized a slemder figure moving through that fog of sleep, eyes like amber staring through the darkness (why was the light of the torches do dim?)

Clearly, it was her.

Morrigan.

The witch.

_No doubt anymore._

His lips moved slowly as he tried to fight the overwhelming tiredness. "You?" he managed. "What are you doing…?"

Her voice sounded muffled through the haze:"Making an exception".

Sleep came.

* * *

The door closed behind her as quietly as it had opened.  _A door inside an old building like this and it doesn't creak? Life is full of surprises._

Morrigan sneaked into the room silently and gave a start as she saw the bard lying in her bed stock-still, illuminated by the bed-candles. A cold shiver ran down her spine.  _She could already be dead. This whole manoeuvre might be pointless._ Well, admittedly: it was one way or the other. Those men outside wouldn't be asleep for a long time – and if someone came passing by…well, two sleeping guards would attract attention. She wasn't even sure why she did this. What was she going to do – grab the girl and run? What was the point?

_Well, she might wake up…or die. Either way, she shouldn't be alone._

Morrigan cursed herself for that silly sentimental notion. The bard wouldn't even realize that she was here in the worst case. Dying in your sleep, well it was naturally something you did alone.

_What a comforting thought, Morrigan. She would appreciate that._

But her dark mood brightened up a little as she drew closer. The first impression had been deluding: Leliana actually looked quite…good. As she was standing next to the bed, Morrigan could see her chest going up and down steadily.

_She looks as if she is just asleep. Is she recovering?_

She didn't know much about the Antivan poison, but still she was sure that this wasn't the way it worked. Her breathing had been rather flat and unsteady while she had carried her – more dead than alive. This however…it gave her hope.

"Well, you look…" she whispered as she knelt down next to the bed. Then she shook her head. "No. I will not do this, you hear? I'm not talking with myself…again."  _Certainly had my share of_ that  _today._ "If you do not wish to talk to me – fine, I'll just be quiet."  _You can't hear me anyway, can you? It would not make a difference whether I was here or not._ Still, she reached out to hold Leliana's hand…

…which was surprisingly warm, warmer than it should have been if she were still in a coma. She was getting better? For the first time, a thought crossed her mind: she had been away for the better part of a day. Maybe the girl  _had_  recovered. Maybe she had already woken up?  _And if she has? Then someone must have told her, that I ran away._ It was a very unsettling thought. In that case, there could have been only one interpretation for the girl: Morrigan had gone away for good.  _And once again, I've hurt her…_

No, this couldn't be. The whole struggle with herself in the forest. There had to be a  _point_  in it!

Morrigan decided that it was best to look for further clues if the bard was still in a poison-coma or just asleep. She certainly was not cold, neither did she look like burning up. Curiously, Morrigan, reached out to touch her forehead, feeling for a fever…and immediately pulled back as Leliana's eyes started to blink. One time, two times, three…  _She's waking up!_ It took a moment for Leliana to become aware of anything around her. Then she stared in Morrigan's eyes.

"Maker's breath, that was quick!" she whispered with a soft smile.

Morrigan looked at her in amazement. She had always wrinkled her nose in disdain when someone used that foolish phrase of something being 'heart-warming'. She had never actually experienced something like that. But now, hearing that voice again…

Morrigan cleared her throat. "What is that supposed to mean?" she asked.  _'That was quick'? What an odd thing to say after waking up…_

The girl looked puzzled. "Well, we just talked a few minutes ago, yes?"

Morrigan's eyes widened.  _She hasn't woken up before. She has no idea…_ She shook her head. "That…that happened almost three days ago, Leliana."

The girl's mouth opened wide in disbelief. For a moment, Morrigan wondered if it had been a wise move to say that.  _Certainly not._  It would probably be a shock to the girl.

It was at first. "That cannot be! It's impos…" but she broke up as she noticed something. "No. It's true. You  _look_  different than before. Is – is that  _blood_ , Morrigan?" she gasped, reaching out for Morrigan's face. Cursing herself, Morrigan scrubbed her cheek with her hand.  _I thought I had gotten it all._  But then, she noticed that the bard's hand was still reaching out and decided to take it in her own. Warm. Again.

"'Tis nothing. Not even my blood. I just had to…"  _Kill a bear? Talk to myself like a madwoman? Run away and come back?_ "...sort some things out. Don't worry."

Fortunately, Leliana let that go. She was shaking her head. "Three days?" she murmured. "How? How is that possible?"

"The poison," Morrigan stated. "Well, you – you have been really upset that night."  _Because of me._  She tried to ignore that thought and concentrated on that tingling sensation caused by holding Leliana's hand. "And, you know, you hadn't fully recovered. Wynne thinks that you just collapsed here when you returned to your room. After our last…talk. You were just not there anymore. Like in deep sleep. Or even…" She did not complete that sentence. She didn't want to think about it anymore.

Leliana turned her head and eyed up the witch. "Morrigan, were you…" she raised an eyebrow. "You were actually worried about me, yes?"

Instinctively, Morrigan wanted to protest.  _Worried? Me?_  But she knew there was no way to deny it. She nodded meekly. "I guess…that might have been the case." Leliana smiled at that.

"Really? That is so sweet!"

The witch had certainly not expected that. "'Sweet?'" she said incredulously. "You could have died, girl! What might be 'sweet' about that?" – "I – it's not that. It's just the thought of you caring about me." Suddenly her gaze went further down. "…and you are wearing the necklace!" Again, her eyes went wide as she seemed to realize something. "Morrigan…" she stammered. "Does that mean…?"

"Morrigan! I told you to stay away from her!" The witch spun around as the voice appeared out of nowhere. Wynne was standing in the door, a rather embarrassed looking soldier next to her.  _How did she come in here? Why didn't I hear anything? Damn you, old woman! Why couldn't you have given me a few more seconds?_ Morrigan rose up, anger boiling.  _I hope they didn't see me holding hands with her._   _It might give the wrong impression. Or the right one. Equally bad._

She switched back to her usual tone. Icily she stared in the woman's eyes. "Well, and here I was so sure that you had understood how little your orders mean to me."

Wynne's voice didn't even sound a little intimidated. "Go, Morrigan. Go now. I won't let you send her into another coma because of your selfish schemes."

Morrigan felt it rising up again in her hand. Focusing.  _Lightning._  Calmly, she nodded to herself.  _Don't need her anymore._ "Believe me. You don't want to try that, Wynne. You just don't." But the old woman breathed steadily. Still no sign of fear.  _And I tried to be so very hostile._

"Please, stop it." The annoyingly sweet voice rang into the back of her head. She turned around to see that Leliana had sat up in the bed. "No need to get angry, Morrigan." Her eyes begged her to stop whatever she was doing. But her voice sounded steady and soothing. "Surely, the secrets and implications of the necklace can wait until tomorrow? We can gladly talk about it after Wynne has made sure that I am alright, yes?"

Morrigan stared at her blankly. Lying. Leliana was so  _good_  at it! The mask of the innocent Sister – as usual, it covered up that there was a cunning bard underneath it all. Even Morrigan probably wouldn't have noticed that subtle stress in the phrase 'talk about  _it_ ' if she wasn't aware of the subtext. _._

Wynne and the guard, on the other hand, had no idea at all and surely thought that she was  _really_ talking about the damned necklace.  _Well, in a way, she is. 'Implications of the necklace', she said. From a certain perspective, that is exactly what we're talking about. Only those fools don't know it._

Morrigan decided that it was time to play along. She took a deep breath. "My, my. Some rest for the Chantry girl? Well, of course. It's not like you have slept for three days… But if just answering to a few question is too much trouble for the Maker's little princess – who am I to judge?" One more glimpse and Morrigan turned away from her abruptly, keeping her head up high as she passed between Wynne and the guard. But she couldn't resist. Just as she was standing in the door, she turned around one last time.

"Oh, Leliana?" she said, hoping that mentioning her name again was clue enough for her.  _It certainly is. She is good at this._  "The answer to that question of yours from before…" She took a deep breath. "It's 'Yes'."

Leliana's smile  _actually_  made the room lighten up. Another silly cliché coming true. "That – is very good, Morrigan" she said, her voice almost a whisper. "I am very, very glad to hear that."

Not without satisfaction, Morrigan noticed the puzzled looks of the others. With a triumphant smile, she turned around, not even listening to Wynne's words behind her. Leliana's smile – had it always been that…glorious?  _Why didn't I ever notice that before?_  But the answer to that was pretty obvious, though: she had never received one of those smiles. She had never deserved one.

_Do I now? 'Surely the implications can wait until tomorrow…'_

* * *

The knocking on the door was very subtle, but the witch's eyes sprung open immediately. Her instincts did the rest. In one fluent motion she moved from the blackness of sleep to sitting upright on the bed – where she remained motionless. A quick glance at the bed-candle revealed that it had to be well past midnight. Not that she had slept very much.

She remained in absolute silence. Someone knocking on the door at this time. She sure knew, whom she  _wanted_  to be on the other side of that door. But if it were someone else…well, better not to give any unnecessary signs.

"Morrigan?"

The witch relaxed. That Orlesian accent was what she had hoped for. But as soon as she realized that, she felt her heart pounding faster.  _This is it. She's here._ With a few quick steps, Morrigan was at the door, opening it with a creak.

_A creaking one. Of course…_

The anticipation had already been intense, but what the door revealed almost made her jaw drop nonetheless. She had expected that Leliana, being finally recovered and all, wouldn't sleep in her day's clothes again, so she wasn't surprised to see the girl in one of the nightgowns she had probably found in the dresser. Morrigan had found some, too, in this room, but they obviously were men's clothing. Leliana, on the other hand must have found a stack of the ones which were fit for a woman – a woman who had been either a dwarf or quite…daring in her taste. Either way, the gown revealed a good deal of the girls' legs. Very,  _very_  beautiful legs.

 _Stop staring – you're the one who usually has to tell people that your face is a little further up._ Morrigan forced herself to look up.

The girl seemed quite awkward. "I 'm sorry, but I couldn't find any sleep."

"Well, hardly a surprise…" Morrigan yawned.  _After all, you've spent the last days in bed._

Something in her voice – or in her face for that matter – seemed to make the girl realize that it was the middle of the night. Her face got that apologetic expression. "Oh. I – Did I just wake you up? I'm so sorry, Morrigan." She got ready to turn around. Was she blushing? "I…better come back tomorrow."

_No._

"No!" Morrigan grabbed her arm and almost pulled her into the room. Almost. There wasn't any real resistance. "Don't you dare getting away…again. I do remember the last time I saw you going out of that door. It took you…far too long to return. I will not have that."

She sat down on the bed, the girl reluctantly taking seat next to her. An awkward moment of silence filled the room. Morrigan suddenly knew that she wasn't actually sure what to  _do_ now.  _Say something, girl! You're supposed to be good at this, not me._

But another thought followed that one only the fracture of a second later: Was Leliana actually good at this anymore?  _Has she…been close to someone after Marjolaine?_ Can  _she actually be – after all that has happened the last time?_

During the Blight, Morrigan had got the impression that Leliana had looked at Elissa in a certain way once. But of course the warden hadn't been into something like that. So maybe Leliana really hadn't had any relations of this kind for a long time. She sure looked that way right now, staring down on her feet.

Perhaps she had noticed the witch's look and turned her head around, managing an unsecure smile. "So…three days, yes?"

Morrigan nodded reluctantly. "Three days."

"Quite some time. Wynne has told me that you have been very…persistent."

"Well, the old woman wouldn't let me in."

Leliana smiled. "She probably wouldn't approve if she knew that I was up here right now."

Morrigan snorted. "'Tis a rather pleasant surprise that she has not placed guards in this very room."

That made the girl laugh. "You know, we had an older sister in the cloister, who was just like that, when we weren't…actually willing to go to bed sometimes. A  _very_  prudent woman. I remember sneaking around in the middle of the night dozens of times. Just like this." The thought of that made Morrigan smirk as well. Wynne as some rigorous elder cloister sister – a fitting comparison.

Laughing took some of the tension away. Still, when Leliana took her hand, Morrigan felt a warm shudder in her chest. The bard's voice was soft again. "But she isn't bad, you know."

"I know," Morrigan sighed. Well, Wynne was bad in many  _other_  respects, but not in this particular one. "She wants to protect you. Always did that. She feels obliged to look after you." – "And you don't think she should?"

Morrigan gulped. Leliana had that spark in her eyes.  _Seriously: why didn't I notice before how gorgeous she is?_  "I think you can look after yourself," she said.

Leliana's voice was merely a whisper – and she seemed to have gotten closer. "She's not stupid. She knows that there is more to this than you being obsessed with some artifact. And she told me that you will get me into trouble."

"Well, I probably will," Morrigan replied bluntly, immediately biting her lip.  _What a very smart thing to say, Morrigan!_

"She also said that you were most certainly going to hurt me in some way." – "I'll try my best not to."  _What_ is  _wrong with you, woman? Are you really going to screw this up now?_

Leliana looked at her in a weird way, then shrugged…and kissed her. It was only the faintest touch of her lips, but it could have lasted forever – if the bard hadn't pulled back all of a sudden. "I – I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you into something, Morrigan."

_What?_

Astoundingly, Leliana really looked very insecure right now. Morrigan frowned. "Wait, let me get this straight: We were just talking about how bad an influence I might be for you. Then you kiss me. And  _then_  you apologize for rushing things?" The bard seemed to chew on that, but Morrigan just had to grin. "Well, I'm sorry to break it to you. But you know that when people sometimes say that you're a crazy person? They probably are right, Leliana." The girl made a grimace, but laughed nonetheless. "They  _do_  say that a lot, don't they?"

Morrigan gently pulled her closer, looking her deep in the eyes. "Screw them," she said – and kissed Leliana again.

It was s soft, gentle kiss, but Morrigan felt the same comforting shiver she had experienced more than two days ago. This time it was her closing her eyes, just indulging in the pleasure of feeling the bard's wet lips on her own. She slung her arms around Leliana as if to prevent her from acting silly again. This time it actually lasted. None of them dared to break it up – so they just simply stopped when it was time to…well,  _breath_.

"Would you call me crazy when I say to you that I  _knew_  this was for real even three days ago?" Leliana asked.

"I most certainly would. Because even  _I_ didn't know it back then." Morrigan replied, but the girl just shook her had, smiling. "No-hooo, Morrigan. You knew it, too. I saw it in your eyes back then."

"Well,  _then_ … Why didn't you say that earlier? It might have spared me a headache and saved some poor animal's life." Leliana looked puzzled, but she smiled since Morrigan's tone suggested a somewhat ironic comment the girl just couldn't possibly understand.  _Probably best not to tell her. Who knows what she might do? Most likely apologize for the inconvenience she had cost in that bear's life…_

She felt the soft embrace again as Leliana put her arms around her and rested her head on the witch's shoulder. "You have me here now, Morrigan," she whispered. As Morrigan smelled her hair, she said, as gently as she had certainly never spoken before (she was pretty sure about that): "And I won't let you go this time."

Leliana pulled back and smiled cunningly. "You know, that means I'll just have to stay here, then…with you." Her words made Morrigan's skin crawl – in a good way. Softly she kissed Leliana's throat. The girl gave a moan of pleasure. "Yes," Morrigan whispered, touching that beautiful legs she had admired. They felt as smooth as they looked. "You will have to stay here all night."

"But…I already told you that I can't sleep right now." Leliana said, in a playful innocent voice.

"'Tis alright," Morrigan gently pushed her into the bed. In the next moment, she was all over her. She liked to be on top of things – and being on top of Leliana was quite a good thing. As she let her hand slide further up between the girl's legs, she could feel Leliana's body tremble. "We can do other things than sleeping." She started kissing Leliana's throat again, slowly moving up until she was looking in her eyes again – their lips as close as they could possibly be without touching.

"I would like that," Leliana whispered with a sigh as Morrigan's reached right under her nightgown. "I would like that  _very_  much."

* * *

When Morrigan woke up, she felt a slight tingling sensation in her hair. Though somewhat sleepy, she barely ignored the reflex to grab at whatever it might have been. Instead her gaze fell on Leliana. The bard was lying there next to her, eyes wide open and intently looking at her…while carefully striving through a wisp of the witch's hair with her fingers. Leliana smiled when she noticed Morrigan had woken up, "Good Morning. Isn't it a beautiful day?"

It was. Well, it seemed like that anyway. Morrigan wasn't quite used to a situation like this. She couldn't even remember the last time she woke up with someone next to her…in this way.  _But has it ever felt 'this way'? I don't think so._  Flemeth had taught her the way to enjoy herself with another human being, to fulfil the need of companionship. But it had all come down to sex. Not waking up with that very person the next day…and actually liking it. This was something new. And as usual Morrigan didn't know how to react to 'new'.

In the end she did it by stating the obvious. "So, you're already awake, I see. And playing around with my hair, as well. I hope you enjoy yourself? Wouldn't want to cause any inconvenience by, you know…waking up and asking what exactly you are doing there?" The last part sounded a little harsher than she had intended, but Leliana didn't seem to care, fixating that streak of hair. She murmured: "I always liked the way you wear your hair. It's so…elegant and enticing at the same time."

Her gaze jumped to Morrigan's face – as if she had just realized that the two of them were talking, "Did you know how beautiful you look when you sleep, Morrigan?"

_A compliment. Never been good with those. Just…try to be yourself._

"Oh, and here I was thinking that I am beautiful while being awake…," she grumbled. Leliana pursed her lips, "Oh, Morrigan. You know what I mean!"

"Surprisingly enough, I do."

Surprisingly enough she really did.

Last night after they had…enjoyed each other's company, Morrigan had lain there awake for what might have easily been an hour – just looking at that girl sleeping in her arms in amazement. Leliana was a beautiful woman, no doubt. But that aura of serenity, that happy smile on her lips – it amplified her beauty beneath anything the witch had ever seen.  _Like some princess out of one of her own tales._  Morrigan had caught herself almost afraid to breath – in fear that the movement of her chest might disturb this fragile portrait of beauty immortalized by her sleep. Yes, she knew full well what the bard meant.

Besides that, she liked the way Leliana was complimenting her. It felt so…real. Looking into those eyes, Morrigan just  _knew_  Leliana meant everything she said. And that made it so much more precious. This right here – seemed perfect. How had she ever denied herself being that close to someone?

 _Not 'someone'. Her._  The thought struck Morrigan as she looked at her.  _It is her I want. No one else._

"Why are you smiling like that, Morrigan?" The question pulled her out of her thoughts. She hadn't even noticed that she did, in fact, smile.  _Now what about that?_

" 'Tis strange, you know. About two years ago, if someone had asked me who'd be the least likely person in camp I would end up in bed with…well, I would have given your name without a second's hesitation. And, yes: I did include Alistair, the Rock and the dog in that scenario. And now," Morrigan sighed. "Now I can't find any good reason to ever wake up without you."

A beam appeared on Leliana's face. "Oh, that is so cute!" she said, cuddling herself against Morrigan's shoulder. "You're becoming quite the romantic, you know."

 _I do? Oh, you're on thin ice here, Morrigan. Quick, say something sarcastic._ She cleared her throat. "Well, to be perfectly honest: part of me was wondering whether I would wake up with a dagger in my belly after getting myself involved with an Orlesian bard…"

Leliana pouted playfully. "That's not a nice thing to say.  _If_  I had something like that in mind you wouldn't have woken up at all." The witch turned aside and looked her in the face incredulously. Leliana kept a straight face…for a few seconds. Both of them burst into laughter. "Would you please remind me of that, should I ever get on your bad side?"

"Just don't get on my bad side, then."

"Fair enough."

The two of them lay there silently for a few minutes. Just staring at the ceiling, the bard in her arms, Morrigan was rather sure that she could keep on just lying here for hours without feeling anything else than the bliss being with that strange, crazy, red-haired girl.

It  _was_  perfect. But she knew she had to...ask.

"Leliana? How long do you think we have?"

Leliana looked puzzled. "What do you mean?" – "Well…," Morrigan sighed.  _Ask her. You just have to_ know _._

The witch shifted around uncomfortably, finally deciding to keep lying sideways. Facing Leliana. "I am pretty sure you will agree that the two of us aren't exactly the type to settle down quietly right now. I think that we both have to…walk our paths a little longer until we might even consider that. I guess you will have to wander around doing Chantry stuff – being a Sister and all. You know: explaining what a privilege imprisonment for the greater good is for the mages. Telling naïve people what to think and to believe. That kind of things."

Leliana turned away silently. She sat up in the bed and reached for a mug on the table next to it. "Well, that is not exactly what I do nowadays," she stated, taking a sip. "Still: I am with the Chantry. That's where I belong…and what I believe. Though it is other matters I tend to now."

"It doesn't matter. I  _am_ , however, rather sure that your Chantry friends won't exactly approve of…this."

The bard grimaced. "You may be right about that."

"I, on the other hand," Morrigan continued, "will have to play my part as well."

Leliana frowned. "Witches' stuff, I presume?"

She nodded. "You might say that."

"I assume that being with the Chantry I  _should_  be interested in the details?"

"You probably should."

Leliana made a stern look. " _Would_  I want to know the details?"

"You probably wouldn't."

The bard sighed. "That's what I thought." Silence.

Morrigan hesitated, but finally decided that she still needed the answer. "So?" – "So what?" – "Well, if I'm not mistaken I did ask you how long you think we might have, didn't I?"

Leliana looked straight at her. "I won't be missed for a few weeks," she said, "A month even. After that…well, I should return to my duties. And after  _that_  we could continue where we stopped. If you want to, that is."

Morrigan stared at her.  _She actually means it. That is…astonishing._ It sounded so easy, the way the bard put it. That implicitness.  _She doesn't even have to think about it. The dangers. The complications. Still she knows that she wants to see this though. Her and me together. Like it is the most obvious thing._

"Morrigan?" She startled, unable to determine how long she had just looked at her. "Are you all right, Morrigan?" – "I…" she started and tried to pull herself together.  _Muster up some dignity, woman!_  "Well, you should know I  _am_  new to this whole 'Thinking with your heart' - thing. It seems I just lost myself in contemplation."

Leliana smiled. "Just try. You can do it. You already did. Don't you feel that there is more to this than just last night?"

 _Of course there is._ It was easy now that she felt the bard's hand touch her own again.

"You are right. I want this. I want…"  _Yes. No doubt._ "I want you, Leliana. I do."

Some indeterminable (but rather adorable) sound of joy escaped Leliana's lips as she slung her arms around her and kissed her. There it was again, this warm shudder on her neck. "I am so glad you said that! I was worried that you might have second thoughts." – "No more second thoughts. I do mean that." Morrigan leaned back again. "So, we do have a few weeks. A month even. You do realize that we can't stay here with Wynne and those men around? And it can be pretty lonely and boring for you to spend all that time in the Wilds…"

The bard shook her head. "I won't be bored as long as I have you. Beside that, I think I might enjoy spending some time far away from other people. After all, the silence of the cloister was what drove me to the Chantry in the first place. No, I think I can handle being away from all the noise and turbulence of the cities…and being with you."

Morrigan grinned. "There really is not a single thing that can stop you from this, is there? Well, I give up then: you and me it is." – "That's the way it should be." Leliana huddled up against Morrigan again.

"Leliana?"

"Yes?"

"What  _do_  you do?"

Leliana raised her head, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"When I talked about the Sister-business earlier you said that it's not exactly what you do nowadays. Well: what  _do_  you do?"

There was just the slightest hint of hesitation or surprise in the bards face. "Do you really want to know? I didn't think that you might care." – "Well, but I do. That is: I don't care about the Chantry. But I care about you."

There it was again: that mild smile. "That is so sweet. Well, if you really want to know: I am with the Seekers of Truth now."

Morrigan was taken aback for a moment. "That is quite a career you are making there." Leliana looked down. "You might say that I had a little help of an old friend." The witch nodded firmly. Of course she had.  _That Revered Mother of hers must be a quite…resourceful person._  Still, it made sense. Leliana was born for this.

"So, the Seekers? And what might they think if they knew one of there loyal subjects is seeking the Truth in the bed of a Korcari witch, I wonder?"

Leliana put on a face of severity and answered in a tone just a nuance too grave to be taken serious: "Well, my dear witch. You can find Truth in the most unlikely places." She leaned over and kissed her again. She almost whispered as she added, "Maker as my witness:  _I_  did."

A wicked grin appeared on Morrigan's lips.

"Are you absolutely sure that it is the whole Truth you found, Seeker?" Slowly she pulled back the sheets, revealing herself – still undressed. "Shouldn't you check your details?" she asked seductively.

Leliana blinked, obviously enjoying the sight. "You may be right. After all, details are important," she said, kissing her again…and again…and again. Morrigan closed her eyes, enjoyed the affections of the girl and felt lust growing as Leliana slowly moved further down with her kisses.  _Yes, she does that, too._

It  _was_  a beautiful morning. And for the first time in years, Morrigan was actually looking forward to what the future was holding for her…for them. There would be problems, of course. Obstacles. Complications. Dark shadows ahead.

But wasn't that just the way it worked?

***End***


End file.
